Sword and Shield
by Kayasuri-n
Summary: Detective Brenda Johnson was looking for something suspicious when she entered the lab, not a connection between Team Rocket and gym leader Giovanni Rocketto. She certainly wasn't expecting Mewtwo. Rated M for Murder and other subjects. COMPLETE!
1. Murders

**Saturday**

Brenda checked the safety on her gun. She didn't holster it when she got out of the car. She could lock the car with one hand, and close the door. She needed her gun out for her peace of mind.

Giovanni Rocketto, Viridian City's gym leader, had asked the police for a favor. He had a lab- it studied potions and their effect on pokemon, or some such thing, Brenda didn't really care- and people hadn't been coming out of it for a week. They had gone in, of course. Currently, his entire lab staff was missing inside the building. According to the blueprints he had offered and Brenda had studied, three hallways and one small basement did not a labyrinth make.

Brenda entered the building with her gun drawn, against regulations or not. She scanned the small lobby. It was maybe ten by fifteen feet, with one wall taken up by coat hooks. There were no coats hanging, but Brenda hadn't expected any. It had been a dry summer. No one had needed a coat.

The lights were on. Brenda looked around for the light switch. It was by the small desk that must have been for the receptionist. The computer on the desk was on, but the screen was shattered. The tower had been left alone. The speakers were emitting a continuous beeping sound.

She looked around the room again. No disturbances, except for the computer monitor. Brenda turned off the speakers. The beeping was getting on her nerves. It was probably only an error message, not that she cared at the moment.

She checked the entire room a third time, just in case. Lights on, smashed monitor, nothing that jumped out at her. Nothing that nagged at her either, like a spot of blood on the floor.

She checked the door handle. On the lobby's side, nothing. On the other side…

_Bingo,_ she thought. Blood smeared over the door. There was a single handprint just above the door knob. Obviously, no one had gotten out into the lobby.

Brenda paused, closed her eyes. She closed the door, left the lab, went to her car. She had a radio on her hip but it was a piece of crap. She only used it in emergencies. The radio in her car was much, much better.

"Dispatch, this is Johnson, Detective Brenda."

"Dispatch acknowledges. What's you're problem, Detective?"

"I'm on call, at scene. There's a hell of a lot of blood just past the lobby. Requesting backup."

"Negative. All units currently available are busy dealing with the fallout of a trainer's temper tantrum. One venusaur vs. buildings and cars. You're on your own. Besides, aren't you supposed to be a gold shield? Can't you handle this yourself?"

Brenda scowled. "Acknowledged. Johnson out." Damn dispatch jackass. Sure she could handle it. The question was did she want to handle it alone? She did not, thanks very much.

She got out of the car, kicked the nearest tire. Checked her gun again, entered the lab. Opened the door and started down the bloody hallway.

There were other blood splatters, down the hall. Brenda kept to the side, out of most of the mess. Down the middle of the hall was what looked like drag marks, in blood. Brenda kept her eyes moving, but couldn't help the thought that it was a lot of blood.

She checked each room she came across. They all had- what looked like to her- the typical lab junk. In one room, there were small pens for pokemon. The pokemon were all dead, without a mark on them. Brenda frowned at the lack of smell, and went on.

She hesitated, halfway down the hall. There was a hole in the floor. The far side was a good seven feet away. She was three feet from the edge, and unable to see anything from her angle. She walked closer, to see what could be seen in the pitch black pit.

Whatever held up the floor broke. She fell.

When she woke up, her head hurt. She groaned, remembered where she was and what had happened. She jerked into something resembling a sitting position and scrabbled for her gun. Once it was in her hand, she relaxed the slightest bit. She was the best shot in the station, and could shoot with her eyes closed, if desperate.

She rather thought she might be desperate.

She looked up, even if that meant exposing her neck. She thought the hole was a good eight feet above her head. She was stuck.

Brenda reached for her radio. She wanted to ream Dispatch, get someone to the scene with a rope. She cursed. She had fallen on the radio, and she was just starting to feel the sting at her hip. The cheap shit had shattered. Her hip was scratched, and would be an interesting color once she was able to see it.

She checked her flashlight. It had been on the opposite hip, and turned on when she pressed a button. She held the light in one hand, the gun in the other, and lurched to her feet. She began to scan the area.

She was in a hallway, almost like the one above ground. The one above had been painted a clinical white; the one below was made of metal. No attempt had been made to disguise that fact.

The hair on the back of Brenda's neck began to prickle. The way ahead of her was clear. She jumped forward, rolled on her shoulder, and shot the moment she was facing back.

The bullet ricocheted off a psychic shield, hit a wall, and fell to the ground.

Brenda kept her gun pointed at the shield. It glowed a faint blue, and was just transparent enough for her to see a vaguely humanoid form behind it. "Lower the shield," she said.

_(Or you will what, shoot again? That worked so well last time.)_

Brenda swore under her breath. Psychics. Uppity mind readers that didn't mind their own business. She really hated psychics.

_(And I'm sure psychics love you. Or at least, they love the headaches you cause. Do you need to shout like that?)_

Brenda growled and focused on a little trick she had taught herself. Find something that irritated her, and concentrate on only that.

The psychic lasted a minute. Brenda had worked herself into an unreasonable mood at that point, but the shield was down. She got her first good look at the psychic.

"Great," she said. "A mutated persian with a bad dye job." She narrowed her eyes.

The pokemon mimicked the expression. Brenda assumed that the purple tail was lashing in irritation, not thought.

_(Correct,)_ the pokemon said. _(You should not be here. I will teleport you to your car.)_

"Now hold on a minute, Vahan," Brenda said. She spoke quickly enough that the pokemon hadn't even started whatever mental ritual it went through to teleport cranky murder cops to their beat up rides. "I don't know who you are, but you're the one that shouldn't be here."

_(Vahan?)_ the pokemon asked. It lifted what might be an eyebrow at her. _(Never mind. This is none of your concern, human.)_

Brenda snorted. "I was called in. Trust me, it's my concern."

The pokemon smirked. _(Ah, but you wish to call for backup. Now, you can.)_

She shot before the blue glow had taken over her sight completely. The good side was that the pokemon had caught the bullet. The bad side was that suddenly, she couldn't move.

_(I should kill you for that, human.)_ The pokemon walked towards Brenda, eyes glowing. _(However, I won't.)_

Brenda made a strangled sound. She couldn't open her mouth. The pokemon blinked, and the glow in its eyes died down a little.

She could open her mouth, but nothing below the neck responded. "Look, jackass, this is just getting personal," she said. "If you're a psychic, you should know that I don't back off when I'm on the job. Now let me go!"

The pokemon's tail lashed the air a little faster. _(You do not know the details,)_ it said.

"So tell me. And let me go while you're at it!" Brenda was starting to get pissed, and a little scared. The fear just made her even more pissed. The pokemon rubbed one paw against its forehead. Brenda supposed that her being pissed off wasn't a picnic for it.

_(Have you had experience with psychics, before? I do not wish to pry.)_

Brenda grunted when mobility was returned. "A little," she said, flexed her fingers. "Alright, spill."

The pokemon eyed her, eyed the gun in her hand. _(Put that away, and I would suppose you have a deal. For now.)_

Brenda holstered the gun. "Like I said, Vahan. Spill."

_(I assume you will, eventually, explain just what 'Vahan' is. Never the less, I will keep my end of the bargain.)_ The pokemon smirked. Brenda glared- she'd put the gun away, hadn't she? _(Of course you did, but you seem a little eager to use it. Now, where do I start? Long explanations, or the details that matter at the moment?)_

"Tell me the part that sticks with my investigation," Brenda suggested, keeping a few phrases hidden beneath the simmering anger she used as a mental shield.

_(Very well. This lab, however it may seem on the outside, is really a laboratory for Team Rocket. I assume you've heard of them? Good. They are… experimenting, on pokemon. I only found out myself just recently, but I do find the practice despicable and came here with the intention of stopping them, by whatever means necessary.)_

Brenda tensed. "I'd say you're a good week late, at that," she said. She pulled at the anger, reveled in it. From the pokemon's grimace, it wasn't going to poke around in her mind. "Boss of this place, or of the above ground part anyways, called the police. People've been going in for a week, but not coming out."

She had a sudden, absurd- or, not so absurd- mental image of digging her own grave. The pokemon stared at her, before laughing.

'Listening' to mental laughter was one of the weirdest things, Brenda decided. She refrained from shooting at the pokemon, but only just.

_(I am not here to kill anyone,)_ the pokemon said. _(By any means necessary might mean wiping memories, or contacting the police, but I don't kill. Too messy, you see.)_

Brenda looked up, where a trail of blood led to a hole. "Tell me about it," she said. "Look, it seems to me that we've got similar interests." She decoded a skeptical glance, shrugged it off. "I don't give a flying fuck what you are, or look like. Just stay out of my mind. For all I know, the human's killer is the receptionist upstairs, who just so happened to snap, and whatever pokemon they're doing experiments on are in danger. Whatever, so long as I get answers."

Brenda folded her arms, dangling the flashlight by the tips of her fingers. She'd talked more in this conversation with the pokemon then she normally did in a week. Weird.

The pokemon eventually nodded in agreement. _(I suppose, while our interests are the same, we might work together. I am Mewtwo.)_

"Detective Johnson."

_(Then, Detective, might you decide on a direction?)_

Brenda scowled, but scanned her flashlight over the floor. She cursed.

_(I don't think that's physically possible, even if it is an interesting idea.)_ Mewtwo narrowed its eyes at the blood, pooled on the floor. _(How unfortunate for you. You rolled in it.)_

"And this is my good jacket, too," Brenda said. "Shit. I guess I'll have to shoot the bastard responsible, then."

Mewtwo gave her an odd look. Brenda glared. "I meant the murderer, asshole. So long as you're not the murderer, you're good. You go first."

_(I take it you'd like to keep an eye on me?)_ Mewtwo started walking, keeping to the edge of the hallway. Brenda grunted in response, followed behind with gun drawn.

She kept the flashlight beam on the blood trail. Mewtwo's large, purple tail waved in and out of her sight, like some annoying bug she couldn't swat.

He jerked his tail to the side, until it brushed the wall. She looked up at his back with no little surprise, and then frowned.

Her private thoughts were _private,_ damn it.

"Whoa, hold up." Brenda hopped over the worst of the blood, and crouched down. "Well, well, what have we here? Looks a claw mark, to me."

Mewtwo snorted. It was a surprisingly audible sound. It got Brenda's attention the way a mental sound wouldn't have. _(That means nothing,)_ he said.

"It means something. Can't decide what, yet, but damn. Big claw."

Brenda stood up. "Keep walking. We'll get to the end, one way or the other."

They weren't walking long when they had to stop. A door- the remains of a door- lay on the floor in front of them. Brenda shined the flashlight on the dips, cracks, and slash marks in the metal.

"Still say that claw mark means nothing?" she murmured. She didn't get an answer, but she hadn't been expecting one.

She kept quiet, more for Mewtwo then anything else. She believed- damn her, she _knew_- that Mewtwo had nothing to do with the blood, with the death they'd find at the end of the trail. He'd wipe minds, sure. She was reasonably certain he'd hurt people, to a certain point. Killing was beyond him. She knew it, and it pissed her off.

It was probably why she was working with Mewtwo, instead of shooting him in the back.

She looked up at Mewtwo's face. She figured the look in his eyes would be described by most people as 'bleak', or 'hopeless', but then, most people would miss the steel beneath the surface.

Brenda wasn't most people. She'd gotten over it, a long time ago.

"Let's go," she said, after she counted seventy-two seconds.

Mewtwo blinked, looked at her. Nodded. _(Yes. There is blood, on the door. Did you see?)_

"Yeah, I saw." Deep in the slash marks.

Mewtwo levitated them over the mess. Brenda hated being out of control, but it was only four seconds. She counted them, was way too relieved when her feet touched the floor again.

They kept walking.

Brenda scanned the flashlight up, stared at the torn hinges. "They tore like tissue paper," she said, amazed her voice didn't shake.

The strength pokemon had scared her. She didn't bother denying it.

Mewtwo made a sound she would have called a whimper, if she'd thought about it. _(Look.)_

She looked.

"Oh holy fucking shit…"

She wondered why she hadn't noticed the smell.

**Saturday**

She hated it.

End of shift, no more lines to tug for the day. She had to wait for the coroner, and if that didn't beat all, the sweepers were working in shifts so they could cover everything. By everything, Brenda assumed, they meant _everything_. Including the damn ceiling.

It would've pissed her off, except she was too tired for that.

She had an idea of a line to tug, but there weren't any scientists on the departmental payroll.

There were computers, in the underground lab, still in working order. The sweepers had told her they'd be available for study once they'd finished. As if she knew anything past the most basic science!

Brenda glared at her piece of crap phone. She'd just finished a conversation with one of Giovanni's people. She would get the employee files, sometime tomorrow afternoon. That was if her shit computer worked. If not, she'd been assured, she'd get the information by delivery, in two or three days.

She was a murder cop. She was responsible for finding justice for the dead. If the higher ups were to be believed, she was also responsible for not pissing people off in the course of an investigation. Brenda usually ignored that part.

She leaned back in her chair, glowered at her computer. Piss for parts, she thought, without heat. She hadn't had a hit of real coffee since she'd left the station. She hadn't had the stomach for anything, after the blood bath.

She closed her eyes. A loose end, she thought. Mewtwo had teleported her to her car, then vanished before she could say… what? She wasn't sure if she should thank him, or…

She had to talk to him. Brenda sighed, and glanced at the clock. She'd find him later, since it was getting close to eight at night.

Go in work early, get out late. Brenda couldn't make sense of it.

She picked up the paper sack that held her bloody clothes. She was wearing her track suit, which she kept at the station for just such emergencies. She hoped the blood would come out of her jacket; it was leather.

She trudged down to her car. She figured she was coming down with something, to be so tired. Normally she could start her shift early, leave late, and still have enough energy to swear at the Officer Jenny who always parked too close to her car.

As it was, she just wanted to get home, sleep. If she was lucky, the images of the dead wouldn't follow her into her dreams.

She was rarely lucky.

She drove home, channeling the reserves of her energy into the drive. She didn't want to be one of those unlucky people who crashed.

She got home in one piece, sat in her car to think.

Something important. Something she half thought she remembered.

Rocketto. Team Rocket.

Somehow, the two things were connected. She just couldn't quite figure out how.

Brenda got out of the car, locked up, and stumbled through her front door.

She didn't manage to get to her bedroom, but once she pulled off her weapon harness, the couch was pretty comfortable.

**Sunday**

"Johnson. Captain wants to talk to you."

Brenda looked up from her computer screen. "Yeah? Thanks."

The officer- new enough to shine- nodded and smiled. Brenda predicted an end to that within the week.

She took the stairs, using the time to sort through her mental files. The Dobinson case was done, waiting for a court date. Denison was in jail as of last month. The appeal wouldn't go through.

Brenda felt her heart sink. The only reason Captain Dallas would call her in was over the lab case. She had nothing thanks to all the fuck ups. Morgue was overfull so all twelve cadavers of her case hadn't been looked at. Her computer hadn't allowed any e-mails. All she had was what she had seen and vague promises.

She put away her anger and irritation. Dallas would want a clear, concise report. Emotions didn't factor into that.

Brenda knocked on the captain's door. The conspicuous lack of Peabody, Dallas's aid, had Brenda's stomach in knots.

"Come in."

Brenda eased through the door. Dallas gestured at a chair. "Take a seat," he said.

Brenda would have preferred to remain standing. It was the effect of the entire room, she knew- the large windows looking out over Viridian City, the tan walls, the large, mahogany desk, and the chairs, a dark wine color that were just comfortable enough to get the tensest officer to relax.

Brenda sat down, folded her hands in her lap. Dallas would tell her why he'd called her up.

Dallas leaned back in his own chair, smiled. "Why don't you tell me about your investigation." It was not a question.

Brenda took a deep breath. "As of this morning, my investigation is stalled," she said. "The sweepers are still looking over the crime scene and predict to be finished in two days. I have spoken with Mr. Rocketto's representative over the lack of employee reports. She attempted to send them via e-mail, but was unable to. The reports are being sent through the mail, and will be here within a day. When the reports arrive, identification of the victims may begin."

Dallas folded his hands on the desk. "So you have nothing?"

"I have my preliminary observations," Brenda said. "Not much I can work with."

"Tell me what you think, then."

"Yes sir. From the amount of decay on some of the bodies, I think that the first murder was sometime early this past week, perhaps Monday. The destruction to the floor and the door in the basement lab, along with the various claw marks, were most likely caused by two or more pokemon. Whether they were ordered to do so, or acting on their own, remains to be seen."

Dallas nodded. "Considering your lack of information, a reasonable hypothesis. Anything else?"

Brenda hesitated. "Sir, I find it suspicious that, once again, Team Rocket and Giovanni Rocketto's businesses are… joined, if you will."

"Drop that avenue of investigation now, Johnson." Dallas' cheeks flushed. "We have been over this. Mr. Rocketto is being unfortunately preyed upon for his name. Add to that how many businesses he owns and you will find it hardly surprising that he's often, unknowingly, funding Team Rocket."

Brenda sighed. "Yes, sir," she said. She made up her mind. "May I be dismissed, sir? I might have a snitch to talk to, about the investigation."

Dallas frowned. "Solve the case, Johnson, but leave Giovanni Rocketto alone."

Once the door was safely closed behind her, Brenda scowled. 'Solve the case' and 'leave Rocketto out of it' were hardly the same thing.

**End Notes**

I do not own Pokemon. I am merely availing myself of that world and a few of the characters. Any and all characters that do not show up in the TV show, in the game, or in the comics, books, and movies, belong to me. That includes Detective Brenda Johnson.

One more thing- the police in this story act both as police and as the humane society.


	2. Partners

**Sunday**

Looking for Mewtwo was a waste of time, but he could find her easily enough. He was a fucking psychic, after all. He'd probably sense her desire for the two of them to have a polite little chat about murder and just what the fuck was going on.

Brenda called dispatch, said she was going to take the day for personal. It was true, after all. Mewtwo was no snitch, even when all was said and done. It would probably take the whole day to find him. Finally, when Brenda thought about it, she needed a day out of the station, without having to explain her hours to anyone.

It felt good, she thought, once she'd hung up on dispatch. Having to account her time was a pain in the ass.

She headed for Viridian Woods.

She got out of the city, started to hum. There was no fucking way she was a trainer, so the little brats left her alone. Eyes to the ground, shoulders hunched, she would've pegged them as guilty had they been in the city. Outside, they were simply looking for their quarry.

She aimed for an area of the wilderness that would be out of sight to the trainers, would get sun for most of the day, and probably didn't hold much interest for the wild pokemon. She sat down, laughed a little at herself, and relaxed from her ramrod straight posture.

Brenda closed her eyes. She sat there she didn't know how long, but it didn't feel like a good length of time. She kept her mind focused on the case. Twelve bodies, in varying stages of decomp. Blood everywhere. The scent of death clinging to her after two shampoos and more soap then Brenda really cared to remember. The sight of the twelve body bags and the frustration at being told that she had nothing, that she wouldn't have anything for a day or more.

Brenda clenched her teeth, forced the anger back. Anger wouldn't help Mewtwo find her.

If he were looking.

Brenda's eyes opened. She hadn't thought of that. If Mewtwo wasn't looking for her… Or worse, was deliberately looking anywhere but at her…

_(You quite obviously know nothing about psychics. Don't cops ever look up?)_

Brenda kept her eyes on the grass. Jackass, she thought.

_(And you're a bitch. Is there a reason you bombarded me with images I'd rather forget, or did you just do it to be annoying?)_

"You can't forget death. It'd make you less of a person. It sure as hell would make less of the victims." Brenda looked up, and frowned. "You can't tell me you were looking for me."

_(Looking isn't quite the word I'd use. But I digress. Do you want something, Detective? Can I go back to trying to find the pokemon from the lab, and trying to ignore the headache you give me?)_

Brenda gestured at the ground. "I'd rather not shout," she said.

_(So stop thinking.)_ Mewtwo stepped off the tree branch, caught himself with telekinetic powers, and landed on the ground.

"Show off."

Mewtwo gave her a Look. Brenda sighed. "Okay, look. I need the whole story, not just the details you gave me yesterday. I can't go into this investigation blind, and right now, you're the only one who can shed a little light. So, start talking."

_(Humans are so inaccurate. I am not 'talking', I am telepathically transmitting my thoughts to your mind.)_

"Does it look like I give a fuck? Do whatever the hell it is you do, which I in my inaccurate, human way, will henceforth call 'talking'."

Mewtwo laughed. He leaned back against the tree behind him. He even smiled, which gave Brenda a chill. She didn't know why, wasn't sure she wanted to know.

_(You are one of a kind. Thank goodness!)_ All humor fled Mewtwo then. He folded his arms and sighed. _(The details… Some, I will keep to myself. This is for my own privacy, and because I am ashamed.)_

"Does it involve my case?" Brenda asked. She told herself she wasn't the least interested in anything involving Mewtwo's history that just so happened to shame the mutated cat. She figured if she told herself that, she'd eventually believe it.

_(No, it does not.)_ Mewtwo sighed again, walked forward a few steps, walked back. His tail lashed the air, hitting the tree nearest him hard enough to have the bark flaking a little. _(It does not,)_ he said, _(but it is a part of it.)_

"Tell me what you can," Brenda said, using the quiet voice she used on families of victims. "Leave out unnecessary details, if that'll help."

_(Very well. To start with… I was created by Team Rocket. I am not the only one, perhaps, but I am the only one who has been so… mutated.)_ Mewtwo held up one paw, stared at it. Looked away, as if in disgust. _(I normally keep to myself, in Johto. However, I do have internet, and I am good at hacking.)_

"Okay, do I even want to know how a pokemon has internet access?" Brenda asked.

_(I could tell you, but then you would most likely get a headache.)_ Mewtwo said, sounding amused.

"Then we can skip that," Brenda said. "So you're a hacker."

All amusement fled. _(Yes. Good enough to get into Team Rocket's database. I was aware, you see, that they were conducting experiments. I thought- I told myself- that there was nothing I could do.)_

"You didn't want to encounter Team Rocket again," Brenda said, reading between the lines. "You were afraid of just that."

Mewtwo glared at her. _(I erased all memory of my existence from them,)_ he said. _(I don't fear them!)_

"But mental blocks have been broken, memories have been returned. A word, a sight, a feeling. That's why mind wipes aren't used more often."

_(I… Perhaps, you are partly right. However, when I discovered that they had combined several pokemon to create a new species-)_

"Wait, what?" Brenda held up her hands. "A new pokemon? Like, like what they did with you?"

_(Yes. Only they used dragon types, more then two samples of DNA, and exposed their creations to more chemicals then I ever was. That was three months ago, when the experiments were still growing.)_

"So you came here? Otherwise, you'd have more information."

_(Precisely. I had… I suppose you would say I'd only just gathered my courage, when I came across you.)_

"Almost teleported onto my head, but whatever." Brenda stood up and began to pace. "Can you read through science jargon and translate it into a sane language?"

_(Ye-es… Why?)_ Mewtwo's tail stopped twitching quite so violently.

Brenda chewed on her lip. "If anyone finds out, I'm dead," she said. "With a capital D. Fuck it, what else can I do?"

_(If you would tell me…)_

"Can't you read my mind?"

_(At the moment, no, and I prefer not to read people's minds. It's rude.)_

"Well screw you, jackass. I need someone to translate science crap, once I'm allowed at the scene. If you can do it, no one will scream at me about the budget and how expensive it is to pay science majors for their time."

Brenda stared at Mewtwo. She half wished that she knew what he was thinking, but that would've meant being a psychic. She'd rather gouge out her own eyes then be a psychic.

_(Perhaps I might be able to help you,)_ Mewtwo said, breaking the silence. _(Go home, Detective. I will have an answer for you tomorrow. Don't worry about finding me.)_

Brenda nodded. "Done, then. Thanks for listening, I guess." She turned and left.

**Monday**

Brenda got into work early. She checked her box for reports and held back a cheer. Some of the sweepers had handed their things into the lab, obviously, since she had a report on the above ground scene.

She settled in to read.

She finished at the exact moment cop shoes clopped up to her desk. "Detective Johnson?"

Brenda looked up. "Yeah, that's me." Brown and brown, she thought. No hint of dye or contacts, which meant it was all natural. Strange, when most people dyed their hair a different color at least once a week, and contacts were cheap.

The officer continued to stand there. Brenda sighed. "Is there something you want, Officer…?"

"Smith," the officer said. "I'm here for training, ma'am."

"Sir," Brenda corrected. "You call your superiors 'sir'. Gender doesn't factor into it." Her mind caught up with her. "Wait a minute, what?"

Officer Smith blinked. "I'm here for training, sir. You don't remember? You told Lt. Milton, just this past January that you would train an officer. He sent me."

Brenda shook her head. "I did?" She thought back. "I don't remember."

Officer Smith held out some papers. Brenda glanced them over, completely befuddled. There it was, black and white, even down to her signature. She had told Lt. Milton that she would train one of his officers. He had too many, not enough trainers. Shit, when'd this happen?

She almost called Lt. Milton. The old man had trained her, back when she was fresh from cop school. She'd been a traffic cop, managed pull over a murderer with his dismembered victim in the trunk. She'd made the arrest, of course, and hadn't ever forgotten the smell of blood and gore after three hours in a car's trunk. Milton had taken her under his wing, made her what she was.

She remembered that he never came in on Monday mornings. He liked to come in the afternoons, work through to the evenings, just as a change of pace. She wouldn't be able to talk to him until then.

"Damn," she said. "I guess it's true, then. Do you have a desk?" If not, she'd have to kick the officers in requisitions in the ass. She hated dealing with the stuck up assholes.

"Yes ma'am- sir." Officer Smith shook his head. "It's that one." He pointed across a very narrow aisle and up three at a desk that hadn't been there the day before.

Brenda grunted. "Fine. Go call the morgue, ask if they've gotten to the twelve cadavers yet. They'll know what you're talking about."

"Uh… what's the number…?"

"Figure it out."

Brenda called up the sweepers, only to be told that they were still working on the under ground scene. She'd just have to be patient, the rest of the above ground samples had been sent to the lab, she'd get the report the next day.

She called the lab, promised she'd break the investigator's legs if he allowed even the slightest delay, and hung up.

Officer Smith was there, waiting. "The morgue is pleased to report that they have not gotten to your cadavers yet. This came in for you." He held out a reasonably sized package.

Brenda ripped it open and smiled. "Good. Damn, this place is sweltering. Let's go."

She glanced at Officer Smith's desk, to see if a name plaque had been made up.

_Vahan Smith_

She stared at Officer Smith, slack jawed.

He winked.

**Monday**

Brenda checked that her car radio was off. "So," she asked, voice pleasant. "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing, Vahan?"

"Pardon?"

Brenda stopped at a red light, glanced over. Was that a hint of purple beneath the brown? "You know exactly what I'm talking about. The radio is off, though I doubt you'd be heard over it."

Officer Smith glared. "I would," he said. "Believe me, I would."

Brenda snorted. "So, how'd you get your voice to sound, eh, hearable, anyways?"

"I assume you mean audible? By talking. You know, I move my mouth, words come out."

"Well, that's what one hopes happens when you move your mouth, but I don't really want to know about your private life."

Brenda watched with a nasty satisfaction as Officer Smith blushed. She reached out while he was distracted, frowned when she felt summer weight police uniform sleeve.

Officer Smith lifted an eyebrow. "Are you feeling me up?"

Brenda drove the car into the nearest parking lot. She noticed the small stand of evergreen trees thick enough to hide anyone stupid enough to stand there, and turned to growl at Officer Smith. "Get out, walk over there."

Officer Smith smirked. "Certainly, sir."

Brenda turned off the car, took two deep breaths, and followed. She wasn't going to kill him. That would be… problematic. Besides, the amount of paperwork wasn't worth it.

She folded her arms, glared. "Alright Vahan, drop it. Now."

Officer Smith frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean, sir."

"Drop the fucking illusion now!"

Officer Smith sighed, closed his eyes. "Oh, very well."

Then his form seemed to- melt- and what stood before her wasn't a new officer but the freakish, mutated form of Mewtwo.

"What the fuck are you trying to do, get yourself killed? Goddamn it asshole!"

_(Do you have any idea how hard this is?)_ he asked. The cop part of Brenda's mind noted that he was slightly hunched over, as if in pain, that his mental voice sounded strained. _(You are the only one who can see me like this.)_

"Goddamn it! Goddamn mother-fucking cock-sucking asshole!"

She punched him.

Brenda glared down at Mewtwo's sprawled form. He should have expected that, she thought. Weren't psychics supposed to have some sort of clue? "What possessed you, huh? All it takes is one mistake, one mistake! Then not only are you dead but Rocketto has your body for dissection and hey, memories come back again!"

_(Dare I say it, you actually sound concerned for me.)_ Mewtwo sat up. He sounded winded, Brenda thought. She offered her hand without thinking.

They both stared at her hand as if it were some kind of foreign object. Slowly, Mewtwo reached for her hand. He was obviously waiting for her to come to her nonexistent senses and pull her hand away.

It irritated her. She didn't stop to question why, just grabbed his paw and yanked him to his feet.

"You're a jackass," she said. Her shoulders slumped. "Will anyone figure it out?"

Mewtwo's form shimmered, and then Officer Smith stood before her. "Not from the electronic files, at least. The only people who'll be able to see through the illusion aren't people at all. They're pokemon- dark types."

"Whoopie. Okay, look. My word is law. Can you yap inside my head without anyone knowing?"

_(Certainly,)_ he said. Aloud, "That could be useful."

"You have no idea." Brenda smirked. "Get in the car. We have a gym leader to talk to."

Brenda pulled on her seat belt and waited for Mewtwo to figure out his seat belt. It was Mewtwo, whether he looked human or not. For some reason, that was reassuring. "So, despite looking like you've got five fingers, you only have the three, right?"

"Right," he said. "I could use my telekinesis to deal with this, but… I don't have to, do I?" For some reason, he looked worried when he glanced up at her.

"Look, so long as no one figures it out, you can do whatever you want, as long as it doesn't reflect badly on me." Brenda tried a smile. It was weak, but it held. "That a deal, partner?" She held out her hand.

_(It is,)_ Mewtwo said. They shook on it.

Brenda got the car in gear, drove back out into traffic. "What do you know about Giovanni Rocketto?" she asked.

Mewtwo glanced at her. "Why do you want to know?"

Brenda's grip tightened on the steering wheel. "Because I'm fucking tired of being told to leave him out of it. Team Rocket just so happens to be working out of one of his businesses, he's obviously the victim because of his name and wealth." Brenda shook her head. "Once or twice, maybe. But seventeen times this past year? No. There's no such thing as coincidence."

"I know he's the leader of Team Rocket."

"…Shit. I figured, y'know?" Brenda turned onto a private road. "We're going to talk to him."

"Now?" Mewtwo flinched. "I don't think-"

"Your job isn't to think, 'Smith'. Your job is to stand to my right and just a little behind, and look somber." Brenda smirked. "Tough break, but you'll be the overlooked guy."

Mewtwo chuckled. "I think I can handle that."

Brenda pulled up at the property gate. She rolled down her window and smiled at the guard. "Hi. I'm Detective Johnson. I'd like to talk to Mr. Rocketto."

The guard didn't smile back. "What about?" He glanced at Officer Smith, then back at Brenda.

"The lab studying potions. I'm afraid I don't know what that's called."

"Wait here." The guard turned and went back to the guard shack. He spoke on an old fashioned phone- no computer- for a few minutes, then walked back. "Go right through. He'll have someone meet you."

Brenda nodded, drove through the gates. She rolled up her window. "This is a show of power," she murmured. "He'll have someone meet us, we'll cool our heels in a lobby or sitting room or some shit like that."

"I see." Officer Smith looked over at Brenda. "I'm secure enough to admit that I'm terrified."

"I don't even want to know about your history with Team Rocket, if the leader's enough to scare you shitless. Got any proof that he's the leader?"

"Sadly, nothing that could go to court."

"Damn." Brenda got out of the car. "There goes that hope. Come on."

She knocked on the door. Officer Smith got into position just behind and to the right of her.

An older woman, hair pulled back into a severe knot, opened the door. "Come in," she said.

"Thank you. I understand that Mr. Rocketto is a very busy man," Brenda said.

"He's in a teleconference right now, but he should be finished shortly. If you wouldn't mind coming with me?"

"Please, lead on." Brenda looked around. "Mr. Rocketto has a very lovely home." She personally thought it was a bit heavy on dark and morbid colors, but to each their own.

The woman led them to a sitting room. "Please, wait here. Mr. Rocketto will be down shortly."

Brenda nodded and took a seat on a rather uncomfortable couch. "Sit down," she said. She lowered her voice and muttered, "Are the walls cinderblocks?"

_(Yes. I imagine he has a good reason for it.)_

Brenda tried not to jump at the psychic voice rattling in her skull. "They always do," she said. "Relax. Nothing's going to jump you here."

Officer Smith looked over at her. "Was it that obvious?"

"Only to a trained observer. The décor is a little dark for my tastes, sure, and I can't get behind all the swords on the wall, but I'm sure some people would go wild for this sort of thing."

"Thank you, Ms. Johnson. A pity you don't like it."

Brenda looked over, smiled while her heart sank. She didn't like the look of Giovanni Rocketto. She should've guessed from his name that he'd have dusky gold skin, black hair, dark eyes. Just like she did. The upside was she didn't look half as slimy as Giovanni.

"Thank you for seeing us, Mr. Rocketto."

Brenda shook hands with slime covered by a tarp. He had the look of a purebred from the southern islands in the Orange Archipelago. Brenda's parents had both hailed from that area.

"Moro Island?" Brenda asked.

Giovanni smiled. "No, Trovita Island, but good guess. You're from there?"

"My parents," Brenda said. "I've sadly never been there."

"A pity, you'd like it there." Giovanni waved one hand at the door. "But what am I doing, just standing here? Come, come, we can talk in my office. I'll have Lucinda bring us something to drink."

"Be sure to tell her that the two cops are on duty," Brenda said. "Thanks."

"Oh, it's no problem." Giovanni smiled over his shoulder.

Brenda glanced at Officer Smith. He was starting to look kind of purple. She elbowed him, thought about his disguise. He thanked her with a disgusted look and a repaired illusion.

Giovanni gestured them into his office first. "Take a seat. Just a minute." He pressed a button on an old fashioned intercom system on his desk. "Lucinda, would you bring up some drinks. Non-alcoholic, if you please."

"You have plenty of antiques in your home," Brenda said, once Giovanni had sat down.

"I find them comforting. Trovita Island didn't have much in the way of newer conveniences. I find myself reaching for my past even as I look towards my future."

Brenda really didn't like the way he was looking at her like that. She was a professional, she was able to hide it, but damn it, what was there to look at? He looked… hungry, damn it all. Hungry for what?

She gave her head the slightest of shakes. "I came to talk to you about your lab," she said, certain he'd know which one she was talking about.

"My lab? Ah, yes, the one researching potions. Have you any news?"

"Not yet," she said. "I actually came to personally assure you that I would find out what happened to your staff. Further, I intend to find this leader of Team Rocket and make him pay for using your lab, your staff, and your money for his operations."

Giovanni coughed, leaned back in his chair. "Ah, thank you, Lucinda." He took a drink from the older woman, who offered drinks to Brenda and Officer Smith. Brenda took one, Officer Smith took the other, Lucinda left the room.

Brenda took a sip of her drink, giving Giovanni time to come up with a response. Got you now, you bastard, she thought. Can't say I shouldn't look too hard, because that would just be a bad idea, wouldn't it? Can't encourage me, because then what're you going to do when I'm breathing down your back, huh?

Giovanni leaned forward in his chair. He smiled, which made Brenda's skin crawl. "Such devotion in public officers. Truly, I feel safe with officers such as yourself on the force."

Brenda smiled. "Thank you. I hope to get you an answer about your lab very soon."

Caught again, Giovanni took a sip of his drink to stall for time.

Brenda leaned back slightly, pleased. The other police officers said she had no political savvy. A pity none of them could watch this, or they'd realize their mistake.

There was the slightest of sounds by the doorway. Brenda was already looking over when she 'heard' Mewtwo gasp inside her head.

He was back to being Officer Smith in a split second, but the slip would have been noticeable to any cop. Giovanni hadn't focused on Officer Smith, thank goodness, or they would've been in trouble.

They were in enough trouble as it was.

The houndoom stared at Officer Smith. Brenda was moving before she'd realized it.

"Oh, what a beautiful canine!" She knelt down in front of the houndoom, giving it access to her throat. As she'd hoped, it was too confused to act.

Brenda rubbed her fingers against the houndoom's ears. She couldn't help the delighted grin when it half closed its eyes and shuffled closer. She liked canine pokemon, but she preferred growlithe. They were predictable.

"You like canines?" Giovanni asked.

Brenda nodded, and cooed over the houndoom. "Love them," she confirmed. She could feel Officer Smith's gaze boring into her back, ignored him for just that reason. "What can I say? I wish I'd joined the K9 police team, but the murder cop business practically fell into my lap."

"You don't have any pets of your own?"

Brenda took her seat with every sign of reluctance, and welcomed the houndoom with every sign of glee when it followed her.

"No," she said. A sigh. "I live in an apartment, and with my hours… Normally I get home, it's midnight. Who can take a growlithe or anything out for a run then?"

"If it were a houndoom…" Giovanni smiled.

"Yeah," Brenda sighed. "Except where could I get one? I'm no trainer, after all."

"Well, perhaps you might consider doing me a favor, beyond finding who killed my staff." Giovanni shifted in his seat. Brenda supposed he thought it made him look uncomfortable, as if he were unused to asking for favors.

He probably was, she thought. He was used to giving orders.

"Oh?" Brenda tugged on the houndoom's ear, and was rewarded with a sigh and a chin on her knee.

"Take Demona. She's young, energetic. Much too young for me, I'm afraid. Her mother has been a valued companion for many years, and all the pups were sold off."

"Except for Demona." Brenda considered it. It was a bribe, obviously, but just because she took a bribe didn't mean she'd go along with anything. "I don't know… it's the whole 'get home at midnight' thing," she said.

"Yes, but if you want to go for a run, what better companion then a houndoom? I'm sure, being a cop, you hardly need protection. However, if some horrible street thug were to see a pretty young thing like yourself alone, they might do something foolish."

Brenda lifted her eyebrows. "Not in my neighborhood," she said.

"Still, consider it. Please."

Brenda lowered her eyes, as if thinking. She had already decided. "I don't know," she said. "Demona looks like a purebred."

"If only," Giovanni said, laughing a little. "No, no, take her. I insist. Protection, as if you'd need it."

Brenda looked up, smiled a little. "I'm afraid, Mr. Rocketto, you've convinced me. Alright, thank you."

"My pleasure, Ms. Johnson." Giovanni smiled in a self satisfied way. "Entirely my pleasure."

**Monday**

Brenda let her new houndoom into the back of the car. "I'm changing your name," she muttered. "Demona is so cliché."

She got into the driver's seat and buckled up. "What were your impressions?" she asked.

"You were flirting with him." Mewtwo glared at her.

"Does it make you uncomfortable with a dark type sitting behind you?" Brenda started the car, headed for civilization.

"Now that you mention it…"

"Anyways, I wasn't flirting with him. He offered a bribe, I took it. Doesn't mean I have to dance to his tune." Brenda paused. "Sorry, Demona, you're not just a bribe, are you, you pretty girl?" She glanced up at Mewtwo, caught the skeptical look he was giving her. "What?"

"You are a very strange human," he said. "Why would you take the bribe if you weren't going to go along with him?"

Brenda sighed. "If I didn't, it means I'm onto him and really principled. That and I've never been bought yet. That either means he has to try really hard to buy me out, or kill me."

"He was still flirting with you."

"Maybe," Brenda admitted. "Why else would he say stuff that's completely untrue?"

"What stuff?"

"He called me beautiful. I'm not."

Mewtwo snorted. "You've been raised on Kanto standards of beauty, haven't you?"

"All my life, why?"

"Kanto standards are completely unrealistic. That ideal of beauty involves white skin, blonde hair and blue eyes, large boobs, small ass, tall and skinny."

Brenda glanced over in surprise. She smiled. "Maybe," she said, and turned on the radio.

Her eyes widened. "Hey, this is my favorite song! _Just when the sky runs out of rain, just when the sun runs out of light, just when the earth is ill with pain, just when your body is out of fight, I will be there, I will be the smallest piece in everything, and I would give my life before I break this promise to you._"

"I said it before," Mewtwo said. "You are a very odd human."

"_Melt in to me, don't you want to be the ones that last forever, I'll be your everlasting, and enemies they take your will but they won't last forever, I'll be your sword and shield and, I'll be your sword, I'll be your shield_… Come on Mewtwo, sing along!"

**End Notes**

I do not own any characters from Pokemon movies, comics, games, TV show, or books. I do not own the song Sword and Shield, either. If you want to look up the song, go to YouTube, type in Sword and Shield in the search engine, have fun.

A side note, Brenda's name is related to the word 'sword', Vahan is a word related to the word 'shield'. Just for anyone who cares.


	3. Murder

**Monday**

"You got a flop?" Brenda asked.

"I- _what?_" Mewtwo stared at her.

Brenda sighed, switched the radio off. It wasn't going to help conversation any. Now that the song was finished, she didn't want to listen to music, either.

"A flop," she explained, with only a little bit of irritation. "Where you sleep. Generally, it has walls and a roof. You got one?"

"No," Mewtwo said. "No, I don't. I don't really need one."

"Trust me, you need one." Brenda glared at an idiot in a blue van. Going to get himself in an accident, she thought. When the idiot in the blue van turned left, Brenda turned right. She'd take a different way home.

"I don't need a… what was it? Flop? Such a charming word, I'll have to work it into casual conversation sometime." Mewtwo leaned back. "I'm a pokemon, Brenda. I don't require walls and a roof."

Brenda pursed her lips. "That radio real?" she asked, gesturing towards him. "Or is it an illusion too?"

"Illusion, but I'm sure I could make it work like a real radio, if I could hear what was being said."

"Like if you were in this car, or listening to me on my radio. No good. You need a real one if this disguise will work; I got to get me a new radio anyways. The other one was smashed and requisitions takes forever. I go down, I can get you a good one- we'll call it your spare- and I can wring a few necks."

"Why, exactly, would you want to kill people?"

Brenda turned onto a suburban street. "Because then my life will be much, much easier."

"…I see. I thought you lived in an apartment?" Mewtwo stared at some of the larger houses.

"Just because I say something, doesn't mean it's true. I could say you make a very handsome human but then I'd be lying. Get it?"

"…Should I thank you?"

"Never mind." Brenda turned down another street, this one a dead end. She drove to one of the smaller houses. "You, out."

"Fine. I don't know how I'll get to the wilderness from here, but I-"

"Did I say you were going to the wilderness? No. You stay here."

"I am not a _pet_, Detective." Mewtwo's eyes flashed bright blue.

"Did I say you're a pet? No. You're my partner, and it'll make life easier for all of us if I don't have to wait three hours for you to show up. You want the rest of the reasons?"

"I believe I do, yes." Mewtwo got out of the car. "I believe the only person whose life will be made easier by this is you, Detective."

Brenda bared her teeth. "Just wait. First reason, accessibility. You're my aide, which means you're on call when I'm on call, which is twenty-four-seven."

"I'm aware of that. Why, Detective, are you saying such obvious things?"

"Starting with the simplest first. Shut up and keep quiet. Second reason, you're not human. You're a pokemon. You drop that illusion, trainers will want to fight you. Maybe one will even manage it, might have a bug or dark type with them."

Mewtwo blinked. The illusion flickered in his shock. Brenda smirked.

"Yeah, I know what'll take out a psychic type. Know your enemy, didn't you ever hear that phrase? Anyways, I can't have my aide hurt. That just won't do me any good. It'll bring up questions that can't be answered, and you can't go to a doctor, either.

"Which just brings up reason number three. You won't have any money until you get a paycheck. If the fake person you created just for this little jaunt stands up, you will get paid. Trust me though, you won't be able to buy anything for a long, long time."

Mewtwo shook his head. _(I'm going to get _paid he asked.

"Shit yeah, didn't you figure?" Brenda shrugged. "Fourth reason, bad weather. Don't need you coming down with a cold, since you're my translator, right?"

Mewtwo stared at her. Brenda covered her unease by opening the back door, letting out the houndoom. "Oh," she said. "I thought of a new name. Rhonwen. Completely random, I know, but… What?"

_(You are a very strange human, Detective. Very well, I will stay here.)_

"Hope you don't mind the couch. I don't have a guest room."

**Monday**

Mewtwo stretched out on the couch, tried to ignore the _void_ staring at him.

He had attempted to explain to the scientists, once, how he saw the world. They'd pumped him full of drugs in response to what they thought were mad ravings. Two months lost, forever, because he'd tried to answer their questions.

He'd learned from that mistake. Answering questions was dangerous, no matter who asked them. Giovanni had been the most dangerous of all. Had the man known, then, that his mind was a partially open book? Mewtwo had known about Team Rocket, about Giovanni's plans for the scientists once he was finished with Project M2. Finally, Mewtwo had learned about Giovanni's plans for him.

Mewtwo rolled over onto his side. He didn't want to think about it, he thought. He stared at 'Rhonwen', a houndoom. A void, to his mind, though his eyes saw the physical form well enough.

He carefully, casually reached his mind back, brushed over jagged shards of metal and glass softened by sleep. Brenda wouldn't wake up unless there was a burglar prowling at the doors, Mewtwo thought. He pulled away from the pain, stared at 'Rhonwen'.

_(What is your real name?)_ he asked.

**It was Demona. Now, it is Rhonwen. If you mean what did my mother name me, she was not allowed to interact with her pups.**

_(I'm sorry.)_

**Are you trying to get along with me, Psychic? That cannot be allowed.** Rhonwen shrugged. **I am a dark type. You are a psychic. Our respective Gods would not be happy if we were to get along.**

_(But we can have a truce, can we not?)_

**A truce is fine, but don't get any ideas, I will still hate you.**

Mewtwo smiled. _(Of course.)_

**You can sleep now, Psychic. Part of the truce is guarding you as I guard my new master.**

Mewtwo yawned. He stretched a little, and pulled the blanket up to his chin. _(I believe the term is 'mistress'.)_

**Very well then. My new mistress. Go to sleep, Psychic. You will wake to see the morning.**

Mewtwo closed his eyes. He felt the void that was Rhonwen walk away, to take up position near the kitchen door.

He fell asleep, aware of a distant ache from being around Brenda's sharp metal and glass mind.

**Tuesday**

Some fucking thing was ringing in her ear. She was going to shoot it, as soon as she opened her eyes and found her gun.

Brenda groaned, stunned to find herself reaching for the phone. Wait, no, it was ringing. Pick up the phone, ringing stops. That was a very good system, she thought.

She had the phone upside down.

With a snarl, she fixed the phone. Grunted into the mouthpiece. "Wh-th-fu'r you?"

"_Dispatch. Johnson, Detective Brenda, acknowledge."_

Brenda forced herself awake. "Johnson, Detective Brenda acknowledges. What do you want, dispatch?" She yawned, stretched out her legs, and listened to the details. They were sparse, but the dispatch might just not know.

She memorized the details, got out of bed. "I am on route. My ETA is thirty minutes."

She hung up the phone, rushed through her shower. She thought nasty thoughts at Mewtwo, was rewarded by a yelp.

"Get up, get ready to go," she shouted. She hoped, for once, that he'd be able to read it from her mind. "Dead body by route- damn it- the route by Victory Road!"

Brenda was finished with her shower, dried, and dressed, in five minutes. Mewtwo was waiting for her, somehow had a cup of coffee.

"Better be real," she snarled. It tasted real when she gulped at it, ignoring a scalding tongue. "Car, now."

They were driving towards the scene eight minutes after Brenda had gotten the call. She got to the scene in twenty-nine minutes, just long enough to tell Mewtwo what he would be doing as Officer Smith.

Brenda parked- no one cared about neatness, at a crime scene- and got out of the car. She took a minute to pause, take in the scene. A field of grass lit only by the whirling blue and red lights of police vehicles. The police tape was up already, Brenda noticed. It encircled a very wide area.

She glanced at Officer Smith, nodded towards the tape. "Let's go," she said. "Pick up a recorder from one of the officers."

"Yes sir," Officer Smith said. He walked away to do just that.

The first hint Brenda had was the blood splatter. She stopped at the crime scene tape, saw the blood. The body was a good eight feet away, she thought. There was blood splatter eight feet… probably further, except it was dark and a damn field. They sure as hell wouldn't encircle all of it.

Brenda ducked under the tape. She flashed her badge at the uniform watching her. "Tell me what you can." She sensed Officer Smith move up behind her. "Record on, Smith."

"Sir."

"Sir, the witness called it in."

"There's a witness for this?" Brenda glared at the uniform. "No one told me this."

The uniform looked away. "The witness is ten years old, sir. He's in a vehicle, completely incoherent. Got himself a pikachu, for comfort I guess. He saw his sister… I'm not sure murdered is the right word, sir."

"What word would you use, officer?"

"Dismembered," the uniform said. He gestured at the body. "Here you go, detective."

Brenda stared at the remains. She didn't flinch. She'd stopped flinching a long time ago.

"Victim appears to have been gutted," she said, careful not to step on glistening intestines. That dew could settle on such a gristly scene wasn't something that Brenda wanted to think about too much. "One arm and one leg have been torn from the body."

She had to stop, step back, breathe. There was violence, she thought, and then there was _violence_.

"One arm and one leg have been torn from the body," she said again, once she had herself under control. "That would be the left leg, the left arm. Both are lying next to the body. The victim also appears to have been beheaded. The head is lying five feet from the body."

Brenda licked her lips. She forced herself to walk forward and kneel by the remains. "Claw marks," she murmured. "Not knife wounds, claw marks. It's too violent, too messy, to be human. Not unless drugs are involved. You rip someone's head off, you're freakishly strong. Same goes for limbs." She looked away from the remains.

"When the ET's get here, make sure they get all of her."

Brenda walked away from the victim. Forced herself to, really. Tears of pity were beginning to threaten. She had to blink them back, focused on the point. "You," she snapped. "Officer… Dylan. When will the witness be available for questioning?"

"He says now, sir," Officer Dylan said. "He wants to know what happened to his sister. He didn't see, not all of it, he said."

"Which car's he in?" she asked.

"Mine." Officer Dylan gestured at one of the black and whites. "I'll introduce you."

Brenda nodded, fell into step behind the officer. "Were you first on scene?" she asked.

"Yes, sir. It didn't take a genius to figure out homicide needed to be called. We did a search of the area, not too far out, looking for people. Kept our guns in hand, as is standard. Found the kid."

Brenda nodded again. "Let me take the lead in questioning," she said. "What's the kid's name?"

"Wasn't able to get that, sir," Officer Dylan said, face and voice apologetic. "Kid was shell-shocked. He might talk to you, though."

"Let's hope he does." Brenda opened the car door, crouched down. "Hey, kid," she said.

The kid lifted his face from a furry yellow rat's fur. His eyes were bloodshot, face puffy from tears. "You're police?" he asked, in a voice that was as tired and defeated as anything Brenda had ever heard before.

"Yeah," she said. "My name is Detective Johnson. I'm going to find out what happened to your sister."

"Pokemon got her," the kid said. "Fell from the sky on her. She screamed. I ran." Two tears ran down his face. "I shouldn't have run. I'm the trainer. She just went with me so mom wouldn't be scared. Now she's dead."

Brenda shook her head. "There was nothing you could have done," she said, not sure that was true. "What's your name?"

"Max. Max Pearson. My sister's name is- was- Wendy. Her name was Wendy." Max started to cry again. "She's gone."

"Max, can you tell me what the pokemon looked like?"

"Big," he said. "Big and white and scaly."

Brenda nodded. "Would you be willing to work with a police artist?" she asked.

"I want my mom," he said. "But yeah. You'll find what happened to my sister?"

"I will," she said. "I can promise you that. Officer Dylan will take you to the station, call your mom for you, okay?"

Max nodded, held onto his pikachu a little tighter. "Okay."

Brenda walked away. "Officer Dylan, get an artist with that kid as soon as you can. Call the mom, watch the kid, all that happy shit."

"Yes, sir. I'll get my partner and leave now, sir."

"You do that," Brenda said. She looked towards the remains- being transferred to a body bag by the ET's- and couldn't look away.

She stayed until the sweepers had arrived, until dawn was just beginning. Then, and only then, did she go to her car. "Is the recorder off, Smith?" she remembered to ask.

"Yes."

She didn't question the tightness in Mewtwo's voice. He'd just seen the remains of a girl who'd been ripped to shreds. He wasn't going to be all light and sunshine.

Instead, she drove. She just knew she wasn't going to the station, not yet. Not until she'd settled down.

She ended up parking in front of a closed and condemned restaurant. She might've sat there ten minutes, staring at nothing, when Mewtwo broke the silence.

_(How can you be so heartless?)_ he asked, mental voice tight, cold.

Brenda looked over. "Heartless?"

_(Don't you care anything at all for that girl?)_

"The dead one?" Did he just call her heartless?

_(Of course the dead one! How could you just stand there? Ignore what's been done to her-)_

"Stop right there." Brenda's voice was icy cold. Her face was twisted in fury. "You fucking stop right now.

"I care, alright? It's my job to look at her, to look at what's been done. It's my job to hunt down and catch that girl's killer. I sure as hell ain't ignoring what's been done to her, and I sure as hell won't let her killer get away with this.

"Turning away won't help," Brenda said, surprised to find her voice sounding thick. She had better control then this, damn it. "Neither will tears. Won't catch her killer, won't bring her back."

Mewtwo's mouth dropped open. He reached out to her face. Brenda was too tired to slap his hand away.

His hand came away from her cheek, wet with tears.

_(No,)_ he said. _(Tears won't help the dead. They can only help the living. I'm sorry for what I said.)_

"Forget it," Brenda said. She sighed, rested her head against the steering wheel. "Just forget it."

The car radio crackled to life. _"Dispatch to Johnson, Detective Brenda."_

"Acknowledged, dispatch." She no longer sounded tired, wiped away the tears with one hand. "What is it?"

The dispatcher hesitated, cleared its throat. _"Other then your girl, Brenda? Damn, there's three other dead bodies, same MO."_

Brenda closed her eyes, let her head fall back. "Damn it," she said. "Damn it all to hell."

**End Notes**

By this point, it should come as no surprise to you that I don't own any character that's been claimed by the Pokemon franchise. I'd put up a fight for Mewtwo- he's a damnably fun character- but their lawyers don't play fair.

Also by this point, you should note that the rating has been upped to M, not just for murder. Next chapter there will be a character who exercises some very odd clothing choices, discussion topics, one or both of which will be mentally disturbing to readers. That said, you've been warned, as much as possible without my spoiling what happens next.


	4. Alison

**Tuesday**

"Smith, coffee."

"What?" Officer Smith looked up from his computer screen and over at Brenda's desk.

Brenda glared at him. "What part of that order didn't you understand, your own name? Go get me coffee."

Officer Smith looked around the few police officers still in the station. They were all rank and file, like he was, stuck with the night shift. They looked at him with sympathy, but no help was forthcoming.

Brenda smirked as Officer Smith stood up and slunk over to the coffee machine. She watched long enough to make sure he was planning on getting her coffee, and not just making a show of it.

She turned back to the reports. The sweepers were finally finished, earlier then she'd expected. They must have worked around the clock, lived off coffee and more coffee. Brenda could get behind that, she'd worked days without sleep before. Coffee had been the only thing keeping her going, then.

Officer Smith set a Styrofoam cup of coffee on the corner of her desk. "Anything else I could do for you, Detective?"

Brenda lifted her eyebrows at the snarling undertone, but didn't slap him. It wasn't _quite_ insubordination.

"Sure, book me a flight to Moro Island, Orange Archipelago. In the mean time, you can do all this paper work." She shoved a short stack towards him, rescued her coffee. "Have fun."

Officer Smith glared, but didn't walk away muttering the way most new officers might have.

He was learning, Brenda thought, and dove into the sweeper's reports.

A few hours later, she returned to reality. Damn that report was confusing!

She sipped at her empty coffee cup and growled. She needed more coffee. "Smith," she snapped. "Coffee."

He looked at her. There was more then just the quiet flash of defiance she would have expected. His eyes turned purple.

_(Perhaps you should get some sleep, Detective. Or let others, at least, try to catch some.)_

She glared until he got her coffee. She took a large gulp. Bitter water and coffee grounds danced across her tongue. Her taste buds withered and died in protest.

She glared at the report again. It just _didn't make any sense_. Logically, she knew Rocketto was the dirtiest scum to crawl back out of the deserved grave. Logic had nothing to do with the way her thoughts were chasing around her head.

She looked back over the confusing paragraph again. She and the lab techs had an agreement. They wrote up reports she could understand, she didn't kill them in inventive and painful ways.

Finally, and only because she was starting to get a headache, she pushed the report aside and called the coroner. It was only while the phone was ringing that she realized the time. Six A.M was a bit early for most people, she thought.

Luck was with her. The chief medical examiner, King Coroner himself, answered.

"Ah, Brenda, what can I do for you?"

"Sam, have you looked at my dead yet?"

"Which of your dead, Brenda?" Sam Walters had a quiet voice, was built like a redwood, and was extraordinarily gentle with the dead. He had a way with the families of the dead as well. Brenda had watched his work with awe a few times. Normally, all she got was Sam's underlings.

"Well, as I've currently got sixteen… Look, first twelve. They all died in a lab."

Sam turned away from the video-phone. "Let me just look that up for you. I believe Williams finished the last of them up before going home last night."

"Williams was supposed to have copied me his report," Brenda growled. A few of the uniforms in the near area ducked their heads.

She didn't want to know.

"Yes, he was. Believe me; I will mention that lapse to him. Ah, here we are. Your twelve died of various injuries, all of them fatal."

"Since they're dead, I kind of figured the fatal part."

Sam smiled over his shoulder. "Yes, I imagine you would. However, the man who lost a leg might have survived and simply starved to death."

"He didn't." Brenda's voice was flat, just like her eyes. "What was it?"

"I believe it was the kick to the head that did it. At best guess, the poor man fell to the floor and was trampled by his fellows."

"He was one of the first to die?"

"By my estimate, yes. Do you want names?"

"Not at this time. Send me the report, would you?"

"Certainly, Brenda. Sending the report now. Would you like to hear about your other four victims?" Sam lifted his eyebrows at the screen.

"Yes, I would, thanks. Who died first?"

"The poor Miss. Wendy Pearson, but not by much. A few minutes at most. She died around 1:45 in the morning. The other three died, perhaps, around 1:48 in the morning."

"You're certain?" Sam nodded. "Shit. A psychic killer?"

"Perhaps. Teleportation _is_ fast." Sam frowned down at his hands, walked back to the phone. "Brenda. You know I dislike theorizing who killed them, beyond what applies."

"I know you do," Brenda said, voice soft. Sam had been a police officer, before going to med school to cut up dead people. "You're good at what you do, Sam. What do you have to tell me?"

Sam took a deep breath. "I think all your dead were killed by the same person. Rather, by the same pokemon."

"Explain, please?"

Sam nodded. "Your first twelve vics. The earlier dead, they had limbs torn off, yes, but they might have survived with prompt medical attention. At the end of the twelve, you have something very similar to what happened with Miss. Pearson; gutting and beheading, limbs torn off after death."

"Pearson was dead before she lost her arm and leg?"

"Yes, I'm sorry for not mentioning it earlier. I have a daughter her age."

Brenda felt a quick, sudden, surge of sympathy. "Yeah, okay."

Sam took a deep breath. "Pearson was beheaded first, but as her head was… torn off… she was gutted. It would take practice to make that, I would think."

"In order to get the coordination right, yeah, I agree with you. A pokemon?"

"That is how it seems. Humans don't really have claws."

"You haven't seen some of the street walkers I've seen, then. Send me the rest of the reports when you get them."

"I will."

Brenda turned off her phone and brooded. How was she going to tell Mewtwo? He'd been upset at the lab. How would he be when she told him the pokemon he'd gone to rescue had turned to murder, even gone so far as to murder four innocent people? That maybe, if he'd gone sooner, all of this could have been prevented?

She heard him walk up. His illusion was perfect, she thought, except when he slipped.

"Smith… Pack up. We're going."

"We are?"

Brenda looked up. "Yeah." She didn't bother to hide the exhaustion in her eyes, on her face, in her voice. "We've been working all night, won't do any good if we're hyped on coffee and burnt out. Let's go while I can still drive."

As they left, she wondered how long it would be before the bets started. She just… didn't want to deal with questions as to a 'relationship' with Officer Smith.

Mewtwo opened the car door for her. She closed her eyes for the short time it took for him to walk around to the passenger side.

"Do you want to talk?" he asked.

"No," Brenda said.

"Maybe," she said when they drove out of the garage.

She drove for another five minutes before sighing. "Yes," she said. "But what I've got to say might- will- hurt you. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, but it doesn't help when you feel like something's stabbed you in the ribs."

_(Detective, however nice it might be to have an actual warning this time around, it might be better for both of us if you would stop dithering. Beating around the bush doesn't manage anything except battering the bush.)_

"And annoy the poor schmuck you're talking to, I know." Brenda sighed. She pulled over into a gas station parking lot. "Go get yourself some chocolate."

Mewtwo stared at her. _(What?)_

Brenda pulled a twenty dollar bill from her wallet. "Here. Go."

_(Detective, are you feeling alright?)_

Brenda snarled. "What do you want, a fucking neon sign? Get!"

Mewtwo went, casting glances back at the car the entire time. Brenda rested her forehead on the steering wheel.

She could tell him nice, she thought. Or she could tell him quick. He'd bleed either way, she thought. She just couldn't figure which would draw the most blood.

Fuck it, why did she care, anyways? He was an annoying, sarcastic _psychic_.

He'd looked at her like a small, wounded child. Expecting her to make it all better. Over a _seat belt_, of all things!

Brenda sighed. She had her choice. She just hoped he didn't bleed too badly.

Mewtwo came back, slid into the car. _(Here. Your change, Detective. I got you a chocolate bar too.)_

Brenda accepted the treat, glanced at his chocolate bar. "A gooey bar, Mewtwo?"

_(I've never had one before.)_ Mewtwo stared at the chocolate bar. The wrapper peeled off. He took a small bite, and grinned. _(I think I like it.)_

"Whoopie." Brenda ripped the wrapper off her solid milk chocolate bar, and took a large bite. She closed her eyes to savor the taste. "Look," she said, once she'd swallowed. "I've got to take you back to the beginning."

_(Alright.)_ Mewtwo stared at her. Brenda realized, after an uncomfortable minute, that she was staring right back. She looked away and cleared her throat.

"The sweepers finished with the lab. We can go look at the computers tomorrow, they couldn't get the damn things out of the basement." She took another bite of chocolate, just so she could stall.

She swallowed, took a breath. "There were wax pokemon in the lab."

_(What?)_ Mewtwo lost his illusion, and didn't seem to notice.

Brenda smiled. "Yeah. Couldn't wrap my head around it. I mean, inspectors are going to clue into the wax. Hell, a five year old would clue into the wax. Was it just for form? I can't figure why they'd have wax pokemon in pens." She shook her head. "I noticed the lack of smell," she murmured. "When I saw them. Couldn't figure it, but there you go."

_(If the upper lab was a cover, why bother with it?)_ Mewtwo asked. _(I wouldn't expect Giovanni to approve of something so… foolish.)_

"Yeah, that's what threw me, mostly. Rocketto seemed too slick for wax. Maybe that's the point, another buffer. It's so stupid and crazy, how _could_ he be involved?"

_(Good questions, but somehow I doubt this is what you're worried about.)_

Brenda nodded. "The twelve dead people. They were all killed by the same… I mean, the coroner thinks…" She was staring at him again. Would he break, when he figured it out?

_(Detective… Brenda… Tell me. Please.)_

Deep breath. Quick, then. "The experimental pokemon must have killed the lab workers, killed the four kids. The coroner's certain it was the same pokemon, in our cases."

She watched him shatter. It was the only word she could use for how the light went out in his eyes, how his hand fell. The remains of the gooey bar dropped from his fingers. She caught it, even if he didn't notice.

_(If I had not been so cowardly, those people wouldn't be dead.)_

Brenda wanted to weep for him. It was strange, she thought. She'd only wanted to weep for the dead, before.

"No," she said. "You don't know that."

Mewtwo stared at her, but he didn't see her, not really. _(You don't know what being in a lab, being an _experiment_, is like. If I had gotten there sooner, I could have stopped them. I could have saved the pokemon, saved the humans. Anyone who dies because of this is on my head.)_

She reached out. She would've rested her hand on his shoulder, but… What could she say? She could give him platitudes, and maybe they'd work for a short time.

Or she could talk to him, cop to cop. Brenda considered the idea. It had merit.

She looked down at the two chocolate bars in her hand. They were starting to melt all over her fingers.

"When I was in my second year of homicide, there was this serial killer. He killed thirteen people. Five of those people were because I let him go."

_(WHAT?)_ Mewtwo whipped his head up to stare at her. Brenda didn't look over, just continued to stare at the melting chocolate.

"Me and my partner, Lt. Milton, we were going after the jackass. Had a chance to catch him, too. But the killer, he had a gun. He shot at me. I froze, the way you do when you know you're going to die. Milton shoved me out of the way, got shot in the shoulder. Milton went down. I had the option of staying with my partner, or chasing after the killer."

_(You stayed with your partner, didn't you?)_

"Got it in one. The guy killed five more people before he was caught. I wasn't in on the bust. I was confined to desk duty. Milton was pissed with me. He had every right. I screwed up and people died because of it."

She looked up, then. "But that's what you do. You're a cop, you're going to screw up, someone's going to get hurt. An abusive husband gets out and beats his wife to death, a drug dealer sells some more shit, and a killer gets some more people because you didn't get all the evidence, moved to fast, or let him run. You screw up, you try not to. But you've got to live with it." She shook her head. "Just… Shit. I'm no good with this sort of stuff."

Mewtwo rested his paw on her shoulder. They sat like that for a while. Finally, he spoke. _(I think you did a wonderful job.)_

Brenda snorted, passed over the half melted gooey bar. "Eat your chocolate," she said. "I don't want it all over my car."

She finished her chocolate, licked her hands clean. Eventually, she started the car to drive home.

Mewtwo's hand never did end up leaving her shoulder the whole way.

**Tuesday**

Brenda pulled into her driveway. Her eyes felt like two embers in her skull. She didn't even notice the child-like squeal as she got out of the car.

She noticed the death grip around her neck a split second later.

Only one person, she thought. "Alison get off!" she spat, screaming as loudly as she could while being choked.

"Brenda!" Alison let go of Brenda's neck, danced backward on ice-pick heels that looked like potential weapons. "It's mag to see you."

"Yeah, mag, that's the word." Brenda rubbed at her throat. "Smith, stop staring."

Mewtwo cleared his throat. "Right. Who's… this?"

Brenda looked Alison over, trying to see what Mewtwo saw. Alison had let her hair grow out to her shoulders. The ends curled up and were somehow tipped with tiny bells. Streaks of neon green and pink laced through Alison's brown hair. It was surprisingly conservative for Alison Lance, unlike the bright yellow contacts she was sporting. Those looked like bright yellow pools of piss.

Brenda smiled. Only Alison, she thought, would wear shorts barely larger then a handkerchief and neon pink suspenders… and nothing else. The suspenders were in the perfect position to keep Alison from flashing anyone with her tits. The shorts stopped not even a centimeter below her crotch, and were the same neon green as her hair.

Brenda looked back at Mewtwo, smiled with just a touch of evil. "Smith, this is my sister, Alison Lance."

Mewtwo looked like he was starting to choke.

Brenda leaned forward and crushed Alison to her side. "Let's go inside," she said. "Before you manage to break several laws."

Alison laughed. Her suspenders strained and managed to triumph against gravity.

"Right-o, Brenda my cop. Hot chocolate?"

"Of course," Brenda said, though she wasn't sure she had any. She gestured at Mewtwo to go inside, and led Alison to the front door. Mewtwo followed, keeping closer to Brenda's right then to Alison on the left.

Brenda let them both in. Alison glanced back at Mewtwo once, but didn't ask. Brenda knew that would come as soon as the door was closed. Brenda was right.

"Okay, who's your boy toy?"

Mewtwo was so startled he lost the illusion. Giant, purple and gray mutant persian, and Alison didn't even blink.

Brenda started to laugh. "He's not my boy toy," she said.

"Oh." Alison pouted. "Here I'd hoped you'd hit puberty."

Brenda stopped laughing. "Hey!"

Alison giggled, and wrapped her arms around Brenda's neck for another death grip. "Don't worry, it was totally a joke. So, what's your boy toy's name?"

Brenda rolled her eyes. "Mewtwo, except when he's got his illusion. Then he's Officer Vahan Smith."

"Vahan?" Alison's yellow eyes narrowed. "His name is Vahan?"

Brenda turned to Mewtwo. "Take off, go to the forest. Try not to get yourself killed. Alison gets the couch."

Mewtwo's sigh of relief was the last thing she heard before he disappeared in a rush of blue light. She scowled. Damn it, she hated psychics.

"Okay, Brenda." In a rare serious moment, as strange for Alison as good humor was for Brenda, Alison stared at her foster-sister. "Just why are you dating a guy named Vahan?"

Brenda snarled. "I'm not dating him! He's a pokemon! For God's sake, Alison, I don't do bestiality!"

"There's nothing wrong with banging a pokemon, Brenda, so long as both pokemon and human want to."

Brenda stared. She blinked, shook her head, and glared up at the ceiling. "Have you gotten even more insane since the last time I saw you?" she asked.

"Not in ways that concern you," Alison said. "Now, tell me all about this Vahan guy. Is he good in bed?"

Brenda snarled and yanked on her hair. Why had she been happy to see Alison again? "No, because we're not sleeping together. Eww!"

"You're not?" Alison pouted. "That's no fun. I thought you told him to scram because you'd be embarrassed to bang him with me in the house."

At that exact moment Rhonwen walked in. Brenda realized she'd have to explain the houndoom's presence as well.

"I'll see if I've got any hot chocolate," she said, and made a tactical retreat to the kitchen.

**Tuesday**

"So you're not a dirty cop," Alison said, brooding over her coffee. Brenda hadn't had any hot chocolate.

"No. And I'm not sleeping with anyone, either."

"Not even Mewtwo?"

"No." Brenda rolled her eyes. "Why anyone would want to sleep with that psycho is beyond me."

Alison giggled. Brenda didn't like the sound of it. "Okay, what?" she asked.

"From what you've told me, you and 'Officer Smith' are a good match," she said. "That's all."

"Don't even go there," Brenda growled. "The mental images are going to give me nightmares."

"Don't be silly, Brenda." Alison's grin showed way too many teeth. "Those kinds of dreams aren't nightmares."

Brenda shuddered. Alison _had_ gotten crazier. "Well, I'd rather those dreams were about a human, thanks."

"I don't know, Mewtwo's human illusion isn't too bad. Kind of ugly, but with the right color scheme you wouldn't notice that as much."

"No harassing my aide."

Alison widened her eyes. "Oh, Brenda, I would never do anything like that!"

Brenda glared. "Says the girl who dreams of getting me into a miniskirt."

Alison smirked.

**Wednesday**

Mewtwo reported to Brenda's house at six A.M sharp Wednesday morning. He could sense Brenda's mind, all sharp spikes and even more anger then usual. It poked at his mind, seeking the simplest way to draw blood. Mewtwo carefully slid around the pain. He could sense Rhonwen the void and a bright, strange mind- Alison.

Brenda yanked the front door open. "In," she snarled. "Don't talk to Alison."

Mewtwo nodded, and scanned the living room. Alison grinned at him from the couch. She was dressed in two strips of silver, shimmering, mostly transparent fabric that barely covered her breasts and loins. She had changed her hair to match the silver color of her clothing. Her eyes were still yellow, but they were a healthier, golden color.

He blushed, and looked down at his feet. He was a pokemon, he wasn't supposed to notice human appearances.

Brenda growled. She stalked off towards her bedroom. Mewtwo only noticed then that she was still in her pajamas. He stared, cursed himself for staring. The sight of Brenda barefoot was interesting, but not that interesting, damn it!

He looked away, caught sight of Alison, choked, and went back to staring at his feet.

Alison had been putting on jewelry. She'd been leaning over to fasten anklets on. The strip of fabric across her chest didn't work at that angle.

He concentrated on his feet. Even when Brenda came out and they were walking to the car, he didn't look up.

He wanted to make sure he'd stopped blushing.

Mewtwo blinked at himself. He had an _illusion_. If he didn't want to be seen as blushing- and he couldn't really blush through his fur anyways- then he wouldn't. He made the small adjustment and looked up, just as Brenda sat down in the driver's seat.

He choked. Brenda looked _nice_.

Mewtwo's tail waved very slightly behind him. She caught him looking, and scowled.

"Illusion, Vahan."

He blinked. Oh, right. _(Sorry.)_

Brenda stared at her hands. "I know, I know. Alison picked out the outfit."

"You look… nice." She did. Glass and metal shards mind or not, she looked very nice. She was wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and running shoes. She didn't have any makeup, but her hair was pulled out of her face into a tail. She looked like herself, just a polished version.

Brenda snorted. "Right. Save the flattery. You're still getting drone work."

Mewtwo sat back in the seat. He could live with that.

**End Notes**

For anyone still wondering, I own NOTHING but my own created characters. You try to steal them, I'll hunt you down and make you eat your liver.

That said… Anyone who was surprised, shocked, horrified, mortified, or any other emotion pertaining to Alison, her fashion choices, her topic discussion choices, or even her relationship to Brenda… Stuff it. You were warned.

By the way, I have a challenge for all readers. Anyone who can write with one hand while drawing with the other AT THE SAME TIME- with both drawing and writing easily recognizable- let me know. I'll post the next chapter sooner.


	5. Laboratory

Mewtwo sat on his customary stool. Dr. Adams smiled, leaned on his desk. "Would you explain, please?" he asked.

Mewtwo nodded. _(I can 'see' with my mind, sir. I do not require my eyes. Using a blindfold in the experiments will have no effect on the results.)_

Dr. Adams made a note on his clipboard. "And exactly how do you 'see' with your mind, then?"

_(I see minds,)_ Mewtwo said. He frowned, realizing that maybe that wasn't clear enough. _(Or, not see, exactly, but it's like seeing and feeling, as if my mind is an extension of my body. I can feel the mental shields all creatures have, see how bright or dark or twisted a mind is. It is beautiful, Doctor, I wish you could see it.)_

Dr. Adams hummed in what might have been agreement, or what might have been just thought. He made a few more notes on his clipboard. "And what happens if a person does not have a mental shield?"

_(Wouldn't they die?)_ Mewtwo asked.

"Let's pretend they haven't. Let's pretend that despite not having a 'shield', you called it, as defense against the world, they've survived." Dr. Adams smiled. The expression didn't reach his eyes.

Mewtwo's tail twitched as he thought. He looked out, through the lab window. _(I don't know,)_ he said. _(It's dangerous, not having a mental shield. You _need_ it. Would the person- would the shield remain?)_

"Let us say that whatever remains of the shield is still there."

Mewtwo smiled, pleased that he could hypothesize an answer. _(The shield should shatter, like an egg. But the remains of the shield would be stronger then an egg shell, more like shards of glass or metal. Painful for a psychic to encounter, so the person's mind would continue to be safe.) _Mewtwo turned his head to Dr. Adams. _(I wouldn't want to meet anyone like that, though.)_

Dr. Adams sighed. "No doubt, such a person would probably be very prickly." He finished writing on his clipboard, and stood up. He walked over to the counter running along the edge of the laboratory room. "I'm sorry, Mewtwo. I truly am." He pulled open a drawer, and from it a needle and vial of fluid.

Mewtwo's tail started to lash the air from nerves. _(Doctor?)_ His paws pressed against his thighs. _(What did I do?)_

"That was the wrong answer," he said.

Dr. Adams walked over until he could slide the needle under Mewtwo's skin.

After that, Mewtwo knew no more.

**Thursday**

Mewtwo opened his eyes. Drooping tree branches waved just inches from his nose.

The radio Brenda had insisted he got crackled at him, from where he cradled it in his paws. Mewtwo jumped, and fumbled a little until he could get the thing to work.

_(Yes?)_

"_Do you know how weird it is to get your mental voice when I'm talking to you on radio?_"

_(Detective? Is something the matter?)_

"_No shit, Sherlock. Something's always the matter. Get your ass over here now, we're on duty._"

Mewtwo nodded, even if Brenda couldn't see it and teleported to her living room.

He grunted when several emotions- mostly surprise, though Brenda was definitely angry- slammed into his mental shields. Alison stared at him from the couch, in the process of pulling on skintight purple leather boots that reached almost to her crotch. "Where'd you come from?" she asked.

Brenda just snarled.

Mewtwo lifted an eye ridge in Brenda's direction. _(You did say now,)_ he reminded her. He looked over at Alison, and blushed. At least his fur prevented such a thing from showing. _(And I came from the forest, of course.)_

"Oh shit, did I evict you? I'm sorry." Alison looked mournful. "I should've stayed in a hotel or something."

"Then they'd call the cops to oust the prostitute, Alison. Gimme a minute, Mewtwo. Now that Alison's out of the bathroom I can finally brush my hair." Brenda scowled at Alison and stomped off in the direction of the bathroom.

_(I trust that whatever it is, it's not urgent?)_ Mewtwo 'called' after her.

Brenda just slammed the door.

"Hey, 'two?" Alison stood up. The fact that she was dressed in a flimsy robe and skintight leather boots didn't seem to bother her. "You're looking after Brenda, right?"

_(I have the utmost respect for the Detective, and the thought that she needs someone to care for her is ludicrous,)_ Mewtwo said.

"That's just the front she puts up," Alison said. "Look, just promise me that whatever happens, you'll be there for her, okay?"

_(Is there a reason it all must be so melodramatic?)_ Mewtwo asked. Alison just glared. He sighed, and relented. _(Fine. I promise I'll take care of the Detective, should she ever need it. Happy now?)_

"Much. Oh, look, she's out. Finally! I left my clothes in there." Alison grinned at Brenda.

Brenda sneered. "I thought that robe _was_ your outfit for the day."

"Well, now that I think about it…" Alison looked down at herself. "Nah, too breezy."

"She walks around half nude and she's worried about the damn breeze?" Brenda muttered. She shook her head and grabbed Mewtwo's arm. "Alright Vahan, I'll fill you in on the way."

**Thursday**

Brenda shifted the car into drive, and headed away from home. "It's another crime scene," she said. "Just like the others, except this time we get an adult witness."

"That's good," Officer Smith said. "The pictures our artist managed to get from Max's description were less then helpful."

"Who's Max? Oh, right, the kid." Brenda nodded her head. "Now I remember his name. Yeah, big white blob with wings. Could be an actual pokemon, but I doubt it."

"He was surprised," Officer Smith said. "That could have been why."

"Or it could've been because he's a kid who saw his sister get gutted. Look, is there a reason you're being weirdly formal? You're going to get me started and we just can't have that."

Officer Smith chuckled. "Sorry," he apologized. "I had a… an odd dream. I guess I'm just dealing with it."

"Punch the fucking dream in the goddamn nose, would you? Keep your mind in the here and now, or so help me…" Brenda bared her teeth at traffic. "Look, the good thing is we don't have to rush to the scene. Someone's already there, processing, but I'm primary so I got to handle the interviews at least."

"Who are we interviewing?" Officer Smith asked.

"A prostitute," Brenda said, and had the pleasure of watching him blanch.

"Will… will she be dressed like Alison?" Officer Smith asked, voice hushed. Brenda figured it was in fear.

"Oh, no," she assured him. "Alison is much more daring then they are. Then again, she also has better fashion sense."

Officer Smith winced. He rubbed one hand over his face and sighed. "At least I can look at my feet the entire time."

"No," Brenda said. "I'm going to need your observations."

A break in traffic was offered, and accepted. Brenda steered her car through the lock jam, using a few possibly illegal moves in order to get through, and poured on the gas once there was a stretch of clear road. Despite the fact that she didn't have to rush, it felt wrong not to. She was the primary, and no one could threaten sweepers and MTs quite like she could.

Of course, most people paid attention to the laws of nature when they made their threats. Brenda didn't.

She pulled to a stop when she reached the scene. The witness was waiting for her, leaning against a black and white cruiser with a pout. The officer assigned to the witness was female, at least, and looked harassed instead of embarrassed by the amount of flesh on display.

Brenda pointed one finger at Officer Smith. "Record on, Smith."

"Record on, sir." Smith fumbled a little, attaching the small recorder to his lapel. He followed her out to the witness.

"Officer." Brenda nodded to her fellow police officer. She looked at the witness. "I'm Detective Johnson, this is my aide, Officer Smith. You are?"

"This for the record?" The prostitute scowled, but shrugged. "Yeah, fine, whatever. I'm Jenny."

"You saw what happened?"

"Saw, hell! That's Mercy, my partner. We troll together. Sometimes a guy'd rather bang two for one, know what I'm saying? So me an' Mercy, we figure it's easier to split costs. 'Sides, gotta pay more for two."

Brenda nodded. She didn't quite dare to look over at Mewtwo, to see his reaction. It would probably just make her laugh. "So you were trolling with Mercy?"

Jenny nodded. "Yeah, sure was. We'd just finished off a john. He wanted to watch girls banging each other. So we did. Mercy, she'll swing that way, but I just do it for the money." Jenny's face pinched. "I mean… She did. She can't do no john now."

"I'm sorry," Brenda said. "She was your friend?"

"Yeah, she was. I mean sure, there was work, but outsida work? We were friends. Anyways…" Jenny rubbed her bare arms. "We were walking from that corner there, Westmount and Finch, and right when we got about here, this thing just drops from the sky."

"Did you get a good look at the 'thing'?" Brenda asked.

"Sure did. Was close enough to touch it, I was." Jenny shook her head. "Mercy didn't get a chance to scream, none. One minute she was standing there, the next, pow!" Jenny pounded her fist into her palm, and sighed. "Still ain't sunk in yet."

"I guess you're used to dealing with the difficult," Brenda said.

Jenny's lip trembled. "Yeah… An' I know Mercy would tell you coppers everything, if it were me. Why weren't it me? I mean, I was right there. If that thing hada wanted to kill people, it hardly had to turn its head none."

"Did you scream?" Brenda asked.

"You bet I did. 'Cause it's Mercy, you know? It had Mercy, so I just had to scream." Jenny's eyes were worried.

Brenda risked one hand on Jenny's shoulder. "I'd like you to go with this officer, talk with a police artist."

Jenny shrugged Brenda's hand off. "Yeah, right. Then I'll get arrested for being a prostitute. I ain't stupid."

Brenda shook her head. "No-"

"Prostitutes do the world a lota good, you know that?" Jenny jabbed a finger at Brenda, which was neatly sidestepped. "Guy wants a fuck but don't got him a girl, he can pay a street walker. Better'n him going off and raping some poor woman."

"We're assuming this hypothetical man doesn't have hands, then?" Brenda asked. She shook her head at Jenny's confused look. "Never mind. You won't be arrested if you go with this officer."

Jenny's face cleared. "This is just more of what I gotta do for Mercy, right?"

"Right."

"Well, I hope you get both of 'em."

Brenda's breath caught in her throat. "What?"

"Both of 'em. There were two. One on… Mercy… One up there, watching." Jenny pointed towards a nearby building. "The one on the ground was this bright yellow, an' the one up there was white."

Brenda shook her head slowly. "Thank you, Jenny. You've been a bigger help then you know."

**Thursday**

Brenda was silent until they were halfway to the station. Only then did she break the silence with a muttered "two of them?" before returning to brooding silence.

Mewtwo said nothing. Brenda's thoughts were a muted swirling just beside him, guarded by the ever present shattered glass and sharp metal she used instead of a mental shield.

Only once they were at the police station did he venture to speak. "The prostitute, Jenny, she seemed remarkably collected. Considering what she saw…"

"Street walkers have to be," Brenda said. She glanced over her shoulder at him. "There's no better witness, in my opinion. They see everything and the longer they keep with that walk of life, the more self control they have."

"If you say so," Mewtwo said. "I'm still surprised."

"Whatever." Brenda shrugged one shoulder. "I need to follow up on something. Look over the sweeper's reports, just in case I missed something."

Mewtwo doubted such a possibility, but nodded. After all, he was her underling.

"It's possible you were tired when you last read them," he said. "Fresh eyes and all that."

"Sure, sure…" Brenda headed for her desk, for once bypassing coffee. Mewtwo lifted one eyebrow, but maybe she was just gaining some sense. The police coffee was horrible.

He sat down at his desk, adjusting his chair until it no longer hurt his tail. His disguise was an awkward one, simply because illusions didn't change a person's body. A pity, really.

He heard Brenda talking with someone, keeping her voice low. Human hearing wouldn't have been enough to catch individual words, but he was a pokemon.

"You said two pokemon were required for the lab massacre, Sam?"

A pause. Mewtwo's hearing wasn't quite good enough to hear Sam, unfortunately.

"Nothing, just something a witness said. Look, is it at all possible that two pokemon killed the four recent vics? Two each?"

Another pause. Mewtwo itched to turn around and stare, but Brenda would probably throw something at him then.

"Right. I will. Thanks, Sam."

Mewtwo looked down at the sweeper reports. Nothing too strange, even down to the list of chemicals found in the underground lab. A freezer had been found, with body parts of obvious failures stored away. The sweepers hadn't moved the remains just yet, though Mewtwo couldn't decide if it was from squeamishness or because they weren't sure what they were supposed to _do_ with the gristly discovery. They most likely didn't have a big enough freezer, he supposed.

Another notation caught his eye, and he frowned. "Detective, sir? I think you should read this."

Brenda walked over and read over his shoulder. "Well, why didn't they investigate the end of the hall?" she asked.

"I don't know, sir." Mewtwo glanced at Brenda from the corner of his eye. "Maybe you should ask them."

Brenda grinned, then shook her head. "No, I'll ask them after we check the place out." Mewtwo wondered if she meant for him to hear the thought, _Mewtwo has to check the computers still, anyways._

He nodded. Brenda was out the door and halfway down the hall before he'd escaped the tangle of desks. He ran after her. Though his physical form lumbered at anything faster then a quick walk, his illusion ran normally.

Brenda nodded at him. Mewtwo felt the start of irritation that fled just as quickly as it had begun. She didn't know how hard it was for him, to play at being a human. He almost wished she did know, just to see her reaction.

She would probably be derisive, like the scientists had been. Right and wrong answers, with punishment for both.

**Thursday**

Brenda didn't know what had gotten into her partner, but she would find out. Even if she had to tie him down and have Rhonwen sit on him, she would find out.

At the moment, though, there wasn't any time. Later she would harass some answers out of him.

They walked through the lab. Brenda didn't count the seconds when Mewtwo used his telekinesis to lift her over the torn metal door. He wouldn't drop her.

She glanced at him, then at the floor of the main lab. It was coated with the white powder the sweepers left behind, but the blood underneath showed through with ease.

"Well, let's get to it," Brenda said. "You take the computers, figure it out, and come find me when you have something I can understand. I'll take this hallway."

_(Be careful,)_ Mewtwo said. His tail twitched, and he frowned. _(The sweepers might have not investigated because it was dangerous.)_

"What, you think the ceiling caved in or something? They would have reported something like that."

_(I meant…)_ Mewtwo hesitated, and then sighed. _(Take care, Detective.)_

Brenda rolled her eyes. She left Mewtwo at the computers. She knew how to take care of herself. She was the one with the gun, wasn't she? You'd think she went around encouraging people to take whacks at her, the way he fussed.

Brenda smirked to herself. No, she'd be just fine. Stupid Mewtwo, worrying about nothing…

She blinked, and looked behind her. She'd circled around? Hadn't she just been headed for the hallway, the one the sweepers _hadn't_ investigated? What was she doing walking _away_ from it?

Brenda turned around and started walking towards the hallway. Somehow or other, she managed to get turned around and was walking back towards Mewtwo.

This was wrong. This was very wrong.

Brenda growled to herself and watched every step she took. About ten feet past the freezer, her body wanted to turn back. Without thinking about it, she was already turning around.

It had to be why the sweepers hadn't headed down towards the end of the hallway. Brenda was having trouble remembering that there _was_ a hallway.

"Some psychic trick," she muttered. "Should've brought Rhonwen."

Brenda stopped struggling with the hallway and went back to Mewtwo. He'd be able to break the psychic trick.

"Mewtwo, drop whatever you're doing and come on. Something's screwy." Brenda folded her arms.

Mewtwo looked away from the computer. _(Since I'm not getting anywhere with this thing, I might as well. Otherwise, I might object.)_

"Any and all objections are overruled. Get your purple ass moving."

Brenda led the way to the psychic trick. Again, her body had turned around before she'd realized it. She growled and pointed at Mewtwo.

"You, fix it. I'll wait over there." She jerked her thumb towards the nearest wall. "Be quick about it, too."

_(Of course, _master Mewtwo said. Brenda glanced over just in time to see him sneer and turn away.

What bug had crawled up his ass? Brenda crouched down against the wall, fingers drumming a tattoo on the butt of her gun. She was under a lot of stress, wasn't she? Social niceties were shoved to the side when cops were dealing with sudden curveballs in cases. The witness said two of the flying, murdering things, the coroner said why not, it sounded reasonable, and the cop was left in the position of thinking that hey, there was only one when really, there were two!

He was probably still cranky from whatever dream he'd had, Brenda thought. She could understand it, if that was the reason. Sometimes her dreams made her cranky too. Murderous, even.

Brenda looked back up at Mewtwo. He was glowing. She raised her eyebrows. She had seen his eyes glow briefly, of course, but never his whole body.

At least she recognized the phenomenon. The few times she'd had the misfortune to see trainer battles on TV, normally while in bars, she had been treated to the even rarer sight of psychic pokemon fighting. They would glow; normally blue, and then a blast of psychic energy would take out the opponent.

Mewtwo just glowed. The light would flare once every minute- Brenda checked her watch- but he didn't attack.

Finally, he opened his eyes and the glow died down. _(The shield should be gone, Detective. If I may have leave to return to my _own_ duties?)_

"Seriously, drop the formal shit. I might have to hurt you if this keeps up." Brenda walked past Mewtwo. Her body didn't rebel and turn right back around. "Alright, fine. Go do your thing."

She walked to the end of the hall, finally, and hissed. A hole in the wall opened onto a tunnel, which angled up.

"Well," she muttered. "I guess they had to get out somehow."

She headed back to the beginning. She refused to let herself think about the latest occurrence, other then the fact that suddenly, the lack of blood in the lobby made a lot more sense. She had half thought the killer had cleaned himself off before leaving, but with a tunnel you didn't have to make a fuss. Just kill and leave.

Mewtwo had returned to the computer. Brenda didn't want to interrupt, so she sat back against the one bloodless spot in the room, against the wall.

It had been only six days ago, not even a week, since she had first met Mewtwo. Hadn't her first impression been of a giant, mutated persian with horrible fashion sense, or something like that? Brenda smiled a little. How wrong she'd been. Mewtwo had more in common with Rhonwen then he did with a mutant persian, horrible fashion sense or no.

She needed to pull her mind back to the case, _now_, before she lost it.

Brenda made sure her voice wouldn't have any warmth or kindness in it when she spoke. She couldn't afford it. "Have you found anything yet?"

Mewtwo jumped, and spun around. Brenda was on her feet, gun drawn before she'd even realized it. "What is it? Where?"

_(Detective, it's nothing. You surprised me, that's all.)_ Mewtwo smiled, though his tail was lashing the air.

Brenda holstered her gun, and sighed. "Sorry. Have you found anything?"

_(A more complete list of the chemicals they used, or attempted, a list of the DNA they extracted and incorporated into their 'creations', and even a number of pokemon they started growing.)_

"Any lists on the pokemon with homicidal tendencies?" Brenda asked.

Mewtwo shook his head in the negative.

"Damn," she said. "It was worth a shot."

_(There are no mentions of how they get the money to pay for all this. I know it must cost much more then a potion's testing lab would get, but…)_ Mewtwo snarled his frustration.

Brenda rubbed her forehead. "I found what's at the end of the hallway."

_(Do tell.)_

"A tunnel. It's about six feet wide, nine feet tall, no sharp corners. Heads up, but not at a big angle. Maybe, I don't know, thirty degrees or something?" Brenda frowned. "I'm no good at this stuff."

Mewtwo stood back and rolled his shoulders. _(I'm going back to the computers. You should call the sweepers. By the time they arrive, I should be finished.)_

"Good," Brenda said, and did just that.

**Thursday**

Brenda finished her coffee, and finished writing her report, almost at the same time. She risked e-mailing it to Captain Dallas, but printed out a hard copy just in case. She checked the clock, and grimaced. Midnight.

"Pack up Smith, we're out of here."

Officer Smith lifted his head with an all too obvious expression of thanks on his face. "Really? We are? Am I dreaming?"

"Yes, we are, no, you're not dreaming. Get a move on." Brenda kicked at Smith's chair. She hit something fleshy instead. After a moment, Brenda realized it must have been Mewtwo's tail. She had almost forgotten.

Smith stood up, and followed. Once they were out of earshot Brenda apologized.

"But if you tell anyone I just did that," she said, "I'll kill you."

"What, that you kicked me?"

"That I apologized."

**End Notes**

Yes I'm alive, yes I've updated, and yes, I expect you all to review. Chapter six is on it's way.


	6. Discovery

**Friday**

No rest for the weary, Brenda thought, and helped herself to the last of the coffee.

She hadn't yet yelled at Mewtwo over the radio. Better to let him sleep, she thought. She was a veteran cop of almost ten years. Nearly half her life had been spent either learning how to be a cop, or actually being one. She was used to sleep depravation. Mewtwo had certainly never mentioned an age, not that she would have cared if he had, but he had only spent almost one week as a cop. He hadn't even had the benefit of cop school, like she'd had.

"Up early, Brenda?" Alison stumbled into the kitchen, for once decently dressed. It was not lost on Brenda that Alison had borrowed Brenda's track suit for pajamas.

Brenda had objected, strenuously, to Alison sleeping naked on the couch.

"Yeah. I have to go in to work soon. Give a verbal report to the Captain, update him on progress and shit." Brenda sipped at her coffee. "Then I have to harass the sweepers if I want to get anything this month. Is it possible to rip someone's pancreas out their left ear?"

"What's a pancreas and where is it?" Alison pulled a box of oatmeal out of the cupboard.

"It's in your lower torso and I think it's the organ that deals with blood sugar or something like that. Don't quote me." Brenda grinned hopefully. "You'll make me a bowl?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm taking care of you again?" Alison grinned, not at all playfully. "Remember when I used to tuck you in at night?"

"Stuff it, Ali. So help me god, you tell anyone about that, you're lunch meat. I'm older then you are!"

"And I have fewer issues." Alison filled the tea kettle with water and set it on the oven burner. "You have to admit, you were a pretty screwed up kid."

Brenda finished her coffee. "And I grew up to be a screwed up adult, yeah, I know. So how come you haven't been arrested for your clothing yet?"

"I know people."

"Thought so. Bribes. Here I thought you were a law abiding citizen. I shall never think so again." Brenda shook her head, grinning. "I'm just going to give Mewtwo a friendly wake up call."

"Give him a smooch for me, would you?" Alison fiddled with the oven.

"Hell no." For safety's sake, Brenda decided to take the upcoming conversation to her room. Alison would have a harder time butting in once Brenda threw the lock.

"Smith, wake up."

_(…Detective?)_

"None other. This is your friendly wake up call. Get yourself breakfast then get over here. We've got a full day ahead of us and I'd like to get in sometime before noon. Understand?"

_(Yes?)_

Brenda sighed. "Breakfast, Smith. Then get over here. Do you understand those orders as I have given them to you?"

_(Yes.)_

"Good. Get moving." Brenda switched off the radio, and only felt a little regretful. He would have had to get up anyways, and at least this way he should end up with breakfast.

She meandered back to the kitchen, patting Rhonwen on the head when she saw the houndoom. Rhonwen twitched her forked tail and stared up at Brenda.

"Yeah, I guess you get breakfast too. We'll see what's in the fridge. I know there's some stuff I won't get around to eating, and you might as well get it." Brenda glanced at the kitchen table and smiled. Oatmeal, prepared just the way she liked it.

She pulled a few packets of ground beef from the freezer. Once she'd put the meat in a bowl and thrown out the garbage, she gave the stuff to Rhonwen.

"Enjoy, a meal fit for a king. Or a carnivore."

"Wash your hands!"

"I'm washing, I'm washing…" Brenda scowled at Alison. "Health nut."

"Crazy person."

"Hey, when are you moving out, anyways?" Brenda took her seat and dug into her food.

"When you remember to write me once a month." Alison folded her arms. "And once you promise to be a bridesmaid at my wedding."

"Okay, that's new." Brenda blinked. "I'll remember to write when I'm not busy. Will there be a dress with the bridesmaid thing?"

"Yes, but I can make them black, if that'll make you feel any better."

"It will, thanks. Sure. Who're you marrying? What's his name, Rick?"

"Nope, Crack." Alison grinned as Brenda started choking.

"_The meathead_?"

"Crack isn't a meathead!" Alison folded her arms and glared. "He owns his own nightclub!"

Brenda rubbed her forehead. "Alison, do you even know his real name?"

"Of course I do. It's Anthony Barker."

"At least that explains why he goes by Crack. Anthony Barker Crack. If you have kids, you'll never have trouble teaching them the ABCs."

"That's just mean, Brenda."

"Duh." Brenda scraped the last bit of oatmeal from her bowl. "What were you expecting from me?"

"A little sympathy?" Alison stretched. "I'm going to go get dressed. You have fun."

"Would you get dressed in the bathroom today? There's a limit to how horrified you're allowed to make my aide." Brenda stacked the dirty dishes in the sink. She ran some water into the bowls, and then turned to face Alison. "You have to remember, he's kind of a sheltered guy."

"Psh, yeah right." Alison flapped one hand at Brenda.

Brenda rolled her eyes and waited. She checked her watch twice, before Mewtwo teleported into the living room. She could just see the flash of blue.

"Good timing," she said, and sauntered over. "Let's go, before Alison gets out of the bathroom."

Mewtwo twitched, and nodded. _(Yes, please.)_

Brenda got into the car, and glanced over at Officer Smith. "Here's today's plan. Barring any sudden deaths we have to investigate, I'll be playing with Captain Dallas. I'll probably piss him off, I always do. You can talk nice to the sweepers, can't you?"

_(Why me?)_ Officer Smith fumbled with the seat belt, and looked up. _(I would think you'd want to do that yourself.)_

"Because after you talk nice and I piss off Captain Dallas, we're going to hit the streets and look for a place two pokemon the size of a charizard can hide."

_(In the city? I didn't think such a thing was possible.)_

"Well, we'll start there," Brenda said. "I hope we don't have to look outside the city."

**Friday**

Brenda waved Officer Smith towards his desk. She took her seat, and studied her report. She was just killing time until Captain Dallas called her up. Murder cops dreaded cases like hers. When a pokemon was obviously the culprit, the goal was to first find the pokemon and put it down. After that you could look for a trainer, or the cause.

Brenda was pretty sure the pokemon were not acting on orders. Mewtwo could have probably given twenty-two reasons for the attack, without even thinking. It was finding the pokemon, and putting them down, that was the problem.

It was just that they flew. After visiting the lab and bumping into that psychic trick, Brenda was sure one or both of the pokemon were psychic. The flying meant a lack of tracks to follow, the psychic possibility just made hunting the pokemon that much harder.

Brenda used a scrap piece of paper to write down Rhonwen's name. Maybe the houndoom could track the murderers, if nothing else worked.

Peabody, Dallas's aide, stepped into the bullpen. Instant silence fell. Peabody looked over at Brenda and smiled. "Detective Johnson?"

Brenda picked up her report. "Coming. Should Smith come as well?"

"No, let him work."

Chills crawled down Brenda's spine. The sudden feeling of utter doom hung over her head.

It was normal pre-verbal report nerves, she told herself. The feeling of utter doom always happened.

The thought didn't make her feel any better, but she was able to pretend calm as she headed for the elevator.

"Have you been getting anywhere?" Peabody asked.

Brenda shook her head. "Finding the pokemon is going to be the hardest part. At least Smith was able to take a look through the laboratory computers. He's turned out useful," she said. "I'm surprised."

Peabody grinned. "There's a betting pool to how soon you'll get rid of him."

"If I were you, I'd put my money on 'never'," Brenda said. She smirked at Peabody's surprised look. "Hey, he doesn't ask question after question, he does his job, and he hops too when I give him an order. He hasn't even complained once. Besides, like I said, he's useful."

"He doesn't slow the sweepers down with threats?" Peabody asked, smiling.

"That's why I assigned him to deal with them," Brenda agreed.

Peabody was the first off the elevator. "Good luck, detective."

"Thanks." Brenda knocked on Captain Dallas's door, and waited. When he called for her to enter, she did.

"Sir." Brenda handed over her report. She waited, standing with her hands clasped behind her back, for him to look it over.

There was no mistaking the thundercloud that passed over Captain Dallas's face. Brenda kept her face blank. Whatever was coming, she would have to remain calm and, more importantly, keep from insubordination. She did _not_ want to kill her career.

"Didn't I tell you to leave Rocketto out of your investigation, Johnson?" Captain Dallas growled.

Brenda looked him in the eye. "Sir, I have."

"I can read between the lines as well as you write between them! I said leave Rocketto out of this and you pull him right back in!"

Captain Dallas surged to his feet, Brenda's report crumpled in his hand.

Brenda shook her head, her expression still a controlled blank. "Sir, I haven't written anything between the lines. There are no hidden subtleties in that report. If you read something in that report about Rocketto, then I can only say that I did not put it there." Brenda frowned a little, took a deep breath, and continued. "If, however, you continue to insist that Rocketto has been pulled into this investigation, then I ask you to think about why. I'm leaving him out, sir."

"Keep him out of it, Johnson." Captain Dallas sat back in his chair, expression brooding.

"Sir," Brenda hesitated. "Thank you for your time."

"Go. Find the pokemon. Do what you have to do." Captain Dallas waved one hand.

"Yes sir." Brenda turned to leave. "I think of you as a good cop, sir. Please don't prove me wrong."

Before Captain Dallas could call her back, Brenda sprinted for the elevator. She ignored Peabody's surprised look as she pressed the 'door close' button.

Stupid, she told herself. She had gone in there ready to control herself against career suicide, then the very last thing she says while in Captain Dallas's audience is just that! Stupid, Brenda, very stupid.

Brenda stalked out of the elevator and over to Officer Smith. "Come on, we're moving."

"Sir." Officer Smith followed just a step behind.

Once they were in the garage, Brenda allowed herself to scowl. "Can you do some sort of psychic trick to find these pokemon, Smith?"

"I might, sir, but they will be able to find me if I, uhm, contact them." Officer Smith let himself into Brenda's car.

She sat down behind the wheel, and thought. "I suppose we'll just have to risk it. What other lead do we have?"

"Yes, sir." Officer Smith closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "Please don't disturb me. I'll let you know if I find anything."

Brenda nodded, and drove. She didn't have a set destination, but thought she might stop by an area one of her snitches lurked at. Bingo, also known as Fingers, usually knew what she wanted to know.

It took Brenda almost half an hour to get to the little hole-in-the-wall bar Bingo liked to drink at. The beer was the color and taste of sour piss, and the food looked like it'd poison a weedle.

Brenda glanced at Mewtwo, still in his disguise as Officer Smith, still spaced out. She sighed and left him alone.

She did not go into the bar, of course. She flipped a five-credit to a street tough. "You know Fingers?" she asked.

The street tough shrugged. His friends chuckled a little, leering at Brenda and rubbing their crotches. She ignored them. "There's another five in it for you if you find him in there." She nodded at the bar. "I'd prefer him unharmed, if you don't mind."

"Fingers do something hinky?" The street tough narrowed his eyes at Brenda.

"When Fingers ever do something not hinky?" Brenda leaned against her car and smiled. "I just want to talk to him. You know how it is."

The street tough looked at the five-credit, then back up at Brenda. "Fingers ain't there. He's in the house."

Brenda frowned and ran through her mental files. Her mind made the connection. Her head fell back and she groaned. "Don't tell me. He got arrested for public drunkenness."

"Flashed a babe," the tough said. "What's Fingers supposed to know?"

"You always this curious about police business?" Brenda asked.

The street tough looked at his friends, then shrugged. "'s life," he said. "Gotta know what's up. We should steer clear of Fingers or what?"

Brenda straightened up. "Nah. Hey, you know anything about the pokemon going around murdering people? Drops from the sky, rips their heads off and spills guts."

The street tough shrugged, and smirked. "What if we do?"

"Twenty in it for answers I like."

The other toughs shook their head. The street tough Brenda thought of as the leader whistled. "Not bad, 'cept I don't know nothing."

"What a surprise," Brenda said.

"Wha's that supposed to mean!"

Brenda just shook her head. "Adios, jackasses."

She ignored the calls of 'bitch' and 'slut' that followed her. She had heard much worse.

Brenda drove for two hours, waiting for Mewtwo to come back to himself. He sometimes twitched, though when she turned to look at him he was as still as death.

If he hadn't been breathing, she would have panicked. As it was, when he took a deep breath and opened his eyes, she nearly drove off the road.

"Finally! What took so long?"

_(Drive.)_

Brenda shut her mouth and drove. This was not a case of underling ordering his superior; this was a case of the psychic sounding half panicked and all determined.

She had the odd feeling that something was hiding behind her. The idea made no sense though. Mewtwo was beside her, eyes narrowed and glowing blue, the back seat was empty, and there was nothing to hide _from_.

The facts didn't change the feeling. Brenda was aware of spikes, like a qwillfish or a cloyster, layered over her skin. She glanced down at her arm and saw just flesh, no phantom spikes.

The feeling of someone hiding behind her- inside the layer of spikes, or just amongst them- as well as the feeling of the spikes themselves was extremely distracting. Brenda thanked her lucky stars that she was a good driver, or she would have ended up in several crashes by now.

Mewtwo's eyes stopped glowing and the feelings faded. Brenda looked for the nearest parking lot. "What," she murmured, "was that?"

_(Something I hope never to do again.)_ Mewtwo closed his eyes, but this time Brenda thought it was from exhaustion, not because he was searching.

"Anything you can tell me?" Brenda asked, shoving everything else aside.

_(I could only find one mind. It's moving. Detective, it's headed for Giovanni's house.)_

"_Now?_"

_(Now.)_

"Shit!" Brenda spun the wheel. In a completely illegal U-turn, she headed back down the street. "What's their ETA?"

_(It will arrive in maybe five minutes.)_

"And ours is twenty if I break every law in the book." Brenda pushed hard on the gas. "On the dash, there's a switch. Masking tape. Flip it."

Mewtwo did, and the sirens shrieked to life.

**End Notes**

-points and laughs- Oh look, a cliffhanger! So how long am I going to let you people dangle, anyways?


	7. Fight

**Friday**

Brenda snarled at the traffic. "Mewtwo, pull yourself together. Get on the radio, request backup. Make up some damn reason why we know there's fucking murdering pokemon attacking Rocketto's place. _Motherfucker can't you hear the goddamn siren?_" She yanked on the wheel.

Brenda concentrated on the road. Mewtwo fumbled with the radio, still looking like he'd been hit over the head. "This is Vahan, Officer Smith," he said. Brenda tuned the rest of it out in favor of not crashing her car.

Mewtwo glanced over at Brenda, still driving like a mad woman. _(Dispatch says backup will be there in forty minutes. Pileup on the main road. We're to wait until then.)_

"Hell no!" Brenda slammed on the brakes, swerved around a group of people on a crosswalk. They at least ran out of the way, she thought. "Fuck!" She pressed on the gas.

_(Do you know why it's after Giovanni?)_

"Because it's pissed?"

Mewtwo shook his head. He had lost his illusion. _(It got information from my mind. I told you this would happen.)_

"That's why you didn't- _damn it get out of my fucking way asshole!_- want to do that search thing."

_(Yes.)_

Brenda hissed. "How much do they know?"

_(About Giovanni, about me. I hid from them, so they do not know about you.)_

"Good," Brenda growled. "Because here we are."

She slammed both feet on the brakes. The gates were smashed, the guard shack in splinters. "On foot," she growled. "No way can I get the car through that."

The remains of the gate glowed blue before lifting into the air and shifting out of the car's way.

"You're handy to have around," Brenda said, and pressed the gas.

The car skidded to a stop in front of the front doors. The doors were shattered, thrown to the lawn like two oversized pieces of confetti. Some of the wall was shattered, with cracks radiating upwards and out.

Brenda checked her gun. "Alright. Just a second." She picked up her car radio. "Dispatch, this is Johnson, Detective Brenda. I am at Rocketto's residence. Where is my backup?"

"_Johnson, this is Dispatch. Backup's ETA is in twenty minutes. Wait for them. They are bringing the heavy hitters with them._"

"No time, Dispatch. Tell them to catch up if and when they can." Brenda turned off the radio and just sat for a second.

_(They're bringing fighting types to a psychic battle,)_ Mewtwo said, and shook his head.

"They don't know it's a psychic battle," Brenda said. She got out of the car. "Let's go."

_(Surely you don't want to rescue Giovanni.)_

"I'd like to see him rot in jail," Brenda said. "Besides, there are innocent people in there, and pokemon."

Mewtwo nodded and stepped up beside Brenda. They stood on the threshold, Brenda with her gun, Mewtwo with his psychic powers.

"Well. Let's go." Brenda ran into the house, gun drawn. All she really had to do was follow the path of destruction.

She could hear the fight from the front door. Mewtwo lifted into the air.

Brenda turned a corner, skidded and fell to one knee.

"Jackass." Brenda lurched to her feet and followed.

Brenda checked the safety on her gun, not even needing to look.

She jumped over the remains of a person. There was only a torso and half a face remaining.

She tore around another corner and stumbled to a stop. In the few seconds Mewtwo had been out of sight, he had started a raging fight. With _four_ dragon type pokemon.

_There was only supposed to be one!_

Brenda ignored her surprise and looked for Rocketto. He wasn't there. There were corpses, but none looked like Rocketto.

Brenda opened fire on the white dragon-type. All four of them roared and turned to look at her.

Mewtwo had said one mind was moving, right? Why the hell was there four of them if there was only one fucking mind?

Three of the dragon-types turned back to Mewtwo. The fourth, the white one, started to walk towards Brenda.

Brenda's mind had split into two sides. One side was shrieking hysterically. She ignored that side. The other side was being very calm, very rational, and was thinking everything through at lightning speed. She paid attention to that side.

The white dragon-type was moving in a very jerky, very unbalanced way. Every time the other three swiped at Mewtwo- in union, which was creepy- the white one's paws would twitch. When the other three roared, the white one roared.

Creepy. Decidedly creepy.

Brenda aimed for the white one's eyes. The scales would provide partial or complete protection against bullets, she couldn't be sure which. The eyes had no such protection.

The white one roared and leapt for Brenda.

Brenda threw herself to the side, landing in a roll. She fired at the white one's eyes.

The white one shrieked. It toppled over to the side, bleeding from mouth and nose. Brenda lowered her gun, and stared.

She hadn't thought it would die quite like _that_.

Her gun was empty. She was out of bullets. The rational part of her mind was pointing out that it was the middle of a fight, what was she _doing_, turn and watch the fucking enemy-

At that point she was thrown into the wall.

Brenda opened her eyes just in time to see a bolt of electricity hit the wall above her head. Cinderblocks rained down.

She protected her head as best she could. The cinderblocks had been shattered, at least. She bit her lip and tried to stand up. She could move around a little, could breathe because she was hunched over and there was a tiny air pocket between her chest and her knees, and she didn't think anything was broken, but she couldn't stand up.

Her vision went black with fear. She couldn't stand up. She was going to die under the rubble. She was going to die.

_Shut up_, the rational part of her mind hissed.

Brenda growled.

All she had to do, she thought, was get the weight off her shoulders and back. Brenda half nodded to herself, her chin forced to her chest from the weight of cinderblock pieces above her. She could do that. Probably.

Brenda pushed upwards, her back muscles on fire, her legs cramping, her feet going numb. She kept her hands clasped around her head, protecting her neck and head.

The cinderblock began to shift. A few pieces fell down onto her lap. Brenda ignored them. A few more. There was less weight above her.

Fresh air.

Brenda gasped for breath, and clawed her way from the pile.

She checked her situation. Gun, gone. Probably still in the pile, possibly in pieces, out of bullets and she didn't have any other clips anyways. Stupid.

Physically, she was unbroken. Bruised, scraped, and a few nasty cuts on her arms, but nothing life threatening. She had no skin on the back of her hands and one fingernail had been torn off, but she would heal.

If she lived. There were still the dragon-types to consider.

Brenda looked around and rolled her eyes. Somehow one of the decorative swords hung on the wall had escaped the destruction. It was only a foot away from her, and looked sharp, at least.

Even if it wasn't sharp it could still be a weapon. Five and a half years in Homicide had taught her that.

It was sharp. The decorative sword was sharp enough to draw blood from her thumb, and she only sliding it across her thumb, not pressing down.

_Weapons out in the open, Rocketto. Just what were you planning?_ Brenda shook her head. That was for later.

Brenda looked over at the fight.

Mewtwo was losing.

He staggered backwards, clutching his head in his paws. The three remaining dragon-types were edging towards him, heads stuck far out in front of them, hissing. Their eyes glowed a bright pink.

It was a psychic battle, Brenda thought. They weren't fighting physically, they were fighting mentally.

And Mewtwo was weaker then the dragon-types.

Was it three against one, or one against one? Mewtwo had said he could sense only one mind, but there were three pokemon right there. There had been four.

The white one had trouble walking, and even as Brenda watched, the three moved in concert.

The murders had been all the same.

Focus, Brenda thought. Mewtwo was losing.

The dragon-types lunged. All three swiped a paw at Mewtwo, but only one connected. He was flung into a wall, through the wall, and out of sight.

Brenda half roared, half snarled.

_No one_ hurt her partner.

She leapt at the dragon-types. They spun to face her, in concert again, and instead of creeping her out…

…it just pissed. her. off.

How dare they? How _dare_ they?

She would make them- it- pay.

They were an it. One mind, several bodies.

Once she was done with it, it would have _no_ bodies.

Brenda had almost forgotten she was holding a sword. When she swung her arm, trying to punch one of the dragon-types, she remembered.

The sword skittered over scales before biting deep into an armpit. The dragon-types tilted their heads back and roared with one voice.

Brenda pulled the sword out of the dragon-type and spun to meet the next. And the next.

It had her surrounded. Three bodies against one, but only one mind against one mind.

Brenda thought she had the better mind.

The red dragon-type breathed fire. The blue one breathed ice. The yellow one spat electricity.

Sometimes Brenda was hit. Sometimes she managed to dodge.

Always she managed to hit _it_ with a sword. When she drew blood, which was often, _it_ would scream.

She wanted _it_ to scream more. She wanted _it_ to hurt, to bleed, to suffer.

If Mewtwo was dead she was going to kill _it_ very slowly, one body at a time.

She was screaming, not that it mattered. She was bleeding and one arm wouldn't move where a tail had hit her, but that didn't matter either. The three dragon-types were still standing and that was what mattered.

One of them lowered its head to attack with fire or ice or electricity, it didn't matter which. Brenda saw the chance and took it.

She rammed the sword deep into its eye, into its brain.

The shrieking was horrible. The dying creature pulled away. Brenda almost lost the sword.

She dodged the death throes, already turning to the other two. Fire and ice were the ones that remained. She had killed electricity.

"_Come on!_" she screamed. She didn't even recognize her own voice.

Fire lunged for her. Ice did the same, but five feet to the side.

Brenda stared into the open mouth and snarled. She rammed the sword into the mouth, aiming for the back of the throat.

The sword sunk deep into unprotected, sensitive flesh. The dragon lurched back, pulling the sword with it.

Brenda howled with the loss of her weapon. What was she supposed to use now, her hands? Damn it!

The dragon was in its death throes, even if it didn't realize that fact. It was bleeding. It had a sword stuck in the back of its throat. The sword would stay there until the dragon died.

Brenda thought about that, and bared bloodstained teeth at the dragon. "Good," she whispered. "You deserve it."

The ice dragon howled and lunged for her. Brenda evaded to the best of her ability.

Instead of her head being slashed off, the dragon's paw caught her in the ribs.

The last thing Brenda saw was the wall, coming up to meet her.


	8. Death

**Friday**

At first, Mewtwo couldn't place where he was. He couldn't remember why his ribs hurt, or why his mental shields were cracked and bent, almost broken. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten into an office, covered in dust and sprawled amidst pieces of rock and plaster.

He sat up slowly, one paw to his head and the other to his aching ribs. They were broken, he thought.

Something was screaming.

Mewtwo looked up from the floor to a hole in the wall. That was how he'd gotten into the office, through the wall. He still didn't know why.

The screaming stopped.

Mewtwo stood up, still careful of his hurts. If he stepped up to the hole in the wall and looked out, his memory might be jogged. Then he would know.

He looked around the office a final time. Something was nagging him about the screams.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember. Memories of fights blurred together in his mind, each one similar to the last.

Except- shouldn't there be someone with him, now? Detective Johnson. No, she had been thrown into a wall…

Something had been screaming.

Mewtwo's eyes opened. _(Detective!)_

He couldn't sense Brenda's mind. He could still sense the _thing_ he'd been fighting.

His stomach clenched. Brenda was gone.

Mewtwo narrowed his eyes and lifted up into the air. He would not- could not- let the _thing_ live.

He flew through the hole in the wall and paused. He could see only one dragon type, the ice one. Where were the others? There should have been four. He remembered there were four.

The ice dragon looked up and roared. Mewtwo snarled back.

Psychic energy was gathered in his palms, and flung at the dragon. The dragon managed to dodge and spat ice at him.

Mewtwo raised a shield and gritted his teeth. This was _his_ fault. If he had acted sooner, if he had been less of a coward, no one would have died. Brenda would still be alive.

The fight quickly blurred as Mewtwo attacked and dodged. Sometimes he didn't get out of the way fast enough. There was a bite on his tail and a slash on his leg.

The two fighters paused to catch their breath. Mewtwo hung in the air, gasping, looking the dragon over for any weaknesses.

There were cracked scales on one shoulder, blood was trickling from the corners of the dragon's mouth, and it was holding its wings very carefully.

Movement caught the dragon's attention. A second later, Mewtwo saw the same thing.

He only registered 'dark skin, dark hair' and reacted accordingly. If there were the slightest chance Brenda was alive- Mewtwo moved the human.

He paid for his distraction with an ice beam to the chest.

He shattered the ice crusting his fur, and lashed out at the dragon's mind. His attack skittered over the dragon's mental shield, catching at the tiny cracks.

The dragon roared and leapt for Mewtwo. Mewtwo dodged the flailing claws.

_**Do you really think you can beat us?**_ the dragon hissed. It was the first time it had talked.

_(I think I have a good reason to kill you,)_ Mewtwo answered. He attacked the dragon's shield again, focusing on a particular spot.

The dragon roared and spat ice. Mewtwo dodged again, and threw a few rocks at the dragon to distract it from the mental battle.

The dragon iced the rocks, which did nothing to stop them. It roared again when the rocks connected with its shoulder.

Mewtwo shoved hard on the dragon's mental shield. It started to shatter.

Mewtwo pulled back just as the dragon's mind cracked. It screamed, tearing at the floor with its claws.

Mewtwo watched, oddly satisfied, until the dragon lifted its head and looked at him.

_**Traitor! Human slave! We will kill you! Lie with your human master and die!**_

Mewtwo dodged an ice beam, and another. The dragon screeched and leapt at him. Its paw swatted him out of the air, to the ground and behind. The dragon landed and turned to leap for him again.

He grabbed at the earth beneath the building, and pulled. His mental hands trembled, shaping a spear of rock and thrusting it towards the surface.

The dragon lunged at him.

The dragon impaled itself on the rock-spear, screaming and twitching as it died.

Mewtwo lay on the ground, gasping for breath. He was shaking. From adrenaline or something else, he couldn't be sure.

Someone was clapping.

Mewtwo stood up before he looked over. He knew who and what he would see.

_(Giovanni.)_

Giovanni smiled and ceased clapping. He looked Mewtwo up and down, and chuckled just the slightest bit.

"You seem injured. Was four against one almost too much for you?"

Mewtwo snarled, fur bristling along his spine. _(I should not have saved you,)_ he growled.

"Ah, but you did. That means something, don't you think?" Giovanni looked down at his dust covered suit and sighed. "I suppose it would have been too much for you to simply teleport me out of the building. I would have ended up cleaner, that way."

Mewtwo threw a rock at Giovanni's head. Somehow the man managed to duck.

"Ah. I see, well, considering that until a few days ago I hadn't even realized you were in town…" Giovanni trailed off and smiled. "Cameras in my office. Very useful, especially when a telepath drops his illusion. Don't you think?"

_(There is nothing stopping me from killing you where you stand, Rocketto,)_ Mewtwo pointed out.

"Except for yourself. Something that we'll have to work on, in the time to come. What is the use of all that power if you won't _use_ it, hm?" Giovanni shrugged and spread his hands.

_(As you said; I have all this power. There is nothing that will stop me from using it on you.)_

"Mewtwo, let us stop playing games, hm? You are a pokemon, created to serve Team Rocket. There is no longer any reason to play at being a human police officer." Giovanni gestured with one hand. "Cease this stupidity."

_(Stupidity?)_ Mewtwo growled. He walked forward, glowing a bright, neon blue. _(It is not stupid to ally myself with those who stand against you. I will not cower in the wilderness any longer, Giovanni. I will see you dead.)_

"Just… not at your hands, hm?" Giovanni smiled, and glanced over at the body of the ice dragon. "You could have simply let the dragon kill me. It would have simplified your life, would it not?"

Mewtwo didn't answer. He didn't want to say that he had reacted on a split second and the briefest of hopes that maybe, somehow, Brenda had stood up and… No. He was paying now for his foolishness.

Giovanni's eyes widened. He started to chuckle. "Oh, perhaps you thought I was someone else?" He smiled, not at all disturbed at the sight of an angry Mewtwo. "A pity about Brenda, don't you think? I'll have to send a bouquet of flowers to the funeral. It's-"

Mewtwo snapped. One moment, he had been calm, glowing or not. The next moment, he was furious.

Small pieces of cinderblock walls lifted in to the air and started swirling around his body, like beedrill around their hive.

_(The Detective is not dead, Rocketto,)_ Mewtwo said, his voice a low hiss. _(Although, you? That remains to be seen.)_

The last thing Giovanni saw was Mewtwo reaching for him, eyes glowing a brilliant blue.

Mewtwo allowed Giovanni's body to drop down into the rubble. He was disgusted with himself, but he had done what he'd had to do.

Distantly, he could hear sirens. With a frown, he concentrated on raising his illusion. It felt wrong to appear as Officer Vahan Smith, but what other choice did he have?

Alone but for bodies, he began to look for Brenda. He still couldn't sense her mind.

**Friday**

The phone was ringing. Alison carried the grocery bags to the table, not bothering to hurry. It couldn't be too important, could it? It was probably just Brenda with a request for dinner. Her sister probably remembered that Alison could cook and didn't want to eat a TV dinner or something.

"Hello?"

Alison's smile began to fade. She hardly noticed when Rhonwen- what had possessed Brenda to adopt the houndoom in the first place?- stepped up beside her.

"What happened?"

She grabbed for something to hold, and her hand clenched around one of Rhonwen's horns. "_What happened_?"

Slowly, Alison sank to her knees. The phone fell from her nerveless fingers.

"Oh, God…"


	9. Gleipnir

**Friday**

Mewtwo sat hunched forward in the hospital waiting room. His tail was sore from a bite, his ribs were broken, and the chair was built for a human two feet shorter then he was.

It was easier to think about the inanities than the fact that he was in a hospital waiting room. Waiting for Brenda.

He didn't control his telepathy the way he normally would. Sharing in the misery of everyone else who was waiting on patients was supposed to remind him that he wasn't alone. It was just making him depressed.

_What was he doing here_? He was a pokemon, a clone, a mere reflection- why was he sitting here in the hospital, waiting? He should be leaving for the wilderness! Giovanni was- well, the man was dead. He had killed before, destroying the lab where he had been created and studied, but somehow it was different when he didn't take a vindictive satisfaction from murder.

Mewtwo groaned and cradled his head with his paws. He should have been far away by now, and instead he was sitting in a cramped chair.

The doctor peered into the room for a moment before entering. Melanie knew that doctors were supposed to be much more dignified, but the hospital had an officer down on her first night of residency. No one else was available to talk to the cop's partner.

"I have good news, officer. Your partner is with the doctors right now. She's unconscious, but her major injuries are being taken care of."

The officer's neck popped when he looked up. He took a shuddering breath. "She's going to be fine?"

"Fine," she said. The chief neurologist had already taken a look at the policewoman. The unconsciousness had been from the other injuries, not the bruise on the officer's head.

She held out her hand. It was time to get the introductions over with. "I'm Doctor Melanie Copeland."

"Officer Vahan Smith, Detective Johnson's partner."

"Officer Smith," Melanie said, relieved to have a proper title to use, "is there anything that would make you more comfortable? You won't be able to visit your partner for another few hours. We need to stabilize her condition first. Will that be enough time to secure your illusion?"

Officer Smith narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Your illusion. It's flickering," she said, easily meeting his eyes as they flashed between purple and brown. "Stress can do that."

He clenched his fists. "Leave," he hissed.

Melanie folded her arms over her chest. Maybe it was her first night as a resident, but that didn't mean it was going to be her last. She had heard the bets a few doctors made, and was going to prove them wrong.

"Is that how you'll speak to your partner?" Melanie demanded. "Usually, a nurse tags along when a doctor comes to give details. I thought you might want a bit more discretion, since you care enough to put up an illusion at all. This hospital doesn't care how many fingers you have, but you will be no help to your partner if you can't keep a level head."

She couldn't believe she'd just lectured a pokemon. A very smart pokemon, at that- her meowth had never talked to her.

"I doubt the detective would mention it. Unless she were growling at me."

"Mention what?" she asked. "If you want to drop the illusion for a few minutes, I promise I have too much on my mind to stare."

Mewtwo stared at the doctor. Of course he would meet insane people, he thought. Ever since Brenda had _shot_ at him all he'd met were insane humans. First Brenda, who was in a class all to herself, then Alison, and now this Melanie.

Wordlessly, he dropped the illusion. He cradled his head in his paws.

"She'll be fine, you know," Melanie said. "She will be on very heavy painkillers when she wakes up. The building did a number on her, let alone those dragons, but even together the injuries are shy of deadly."

She was just going to hurt, a lot. Mewtwo knew that.

_(Her leg looked melted,)_ he said, only half aware he wasn't bothering to disguise his telepathy. _(She won't have to have an amputation, will she?)_

"No," Melanie said. "The burns are second-degree- er, they hurt the nerves in the skin and are the most painful kind. She probably will need skin grafts, because of how large the burn is, but she'll have that leg."

_(Skin grafts?)_ He couldn't stop a shudder. _(I'll leave it to the doctors to tell her that.)_

Melanie smiled, a little. "The doctor who has charge of her case is a jerk. Brilliant, in medicine, but unkind to all who are not in awe of him. From what I've heard, your partner would have no trouble beating him in an argument."

He started to smile, just a little bit. _(Believe me, he will be begging to quit by the time she's finished with him. The Detective has a way with words.)_

"Do you think she'd be offended if I sent chocolates?" she asked. "If she does half as well, I know that the residents and the entire nursing staff will chip in on a very impressive spread."

_(Chocolates are fine, but coffee is better.)_

**Saturday**

Brenda knew she was in a hospital room. Hospitals were the only place where machines were supposed to make annoying beeping sounds without end. When the beeping stopped, that was when you started worrying.

Brenda had been in her share of hospitals, connected to more then her fair share of heart monitors. She was a homicide cop, which didn't always mean she dealt with the dead or their killers. Sometimes it meant tracking down a trainer's escaped pokemon, getting hit with stun spore, poison powder, or sleeping powder.

She didn't feel like she'd been paralyzed, poisoned, or knocked out. She felt drugged.

Her lips twitched upwards. Later she'd be angry, at the moment, she didn't care.

Life was wonderful. She was alive, the heart monitor was beeping, and her favorite show was on reruns.

Wait… Brenda opened her eyes and frowned. Something was off, but it didn't matter. She was drugged so life was wonderful. She would have cheered, if her ribs hadn't protested with every breath.

Pain was a distant memory. Brenda started humming.

_(Detective?)_

Brenda turned her head and grinned. "Hey, I know you."

Mewtwo nodded, eyes widened slightly. "Yes, Detective, you do."

"That's a heart monitor," she pointed out. "It's measuring my heart beat."

"Yes, Detective. Are you feeling alright?"

"Peachy keen!" Brenda looked around the room. "Is Alison here?"

Was it alright to blanch? 'Peachy keen'- he had never thought he would hear Brenda say something like _that_. "She went down to the cafeteria, to get food."

"Oh. Does she know you're a vegetarian? Or is it vegan?"

"Vegetarian, and I told her. How do you even know that?"

"'M a detective. 'Sides, I've eaten with you."

"Yes, at the station eatery. The only thing edible was the salad."

"An'," Brenda said, with all the drama of a television lawyer, "I know the contented-ness of my fridge. Veggies show up, then they get eaten. I didn' do it, an' Alison eats with me most times. Had t' be you."

"Detective, are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"Wha's m' list of injured-ness?"

"…Injured-ness?"

"Yeah. How bunged up I am."

Mewtwo peered closer, narrowing his eyes. "You're drunk, aren't you?"

"Nope! 'M high!"

"Oh no…"

"'Two, is she up? Brenda! You're up!"

"No," Brenda corrected. "I'm lying down. I wanna get up. Gotta go."

"You're not going anywhere, Detective! Your leg is badly burned!"

"No…" Brenda squirmed a little. "I gotta _go_!"

"Brenda, you have a- what's it called?" Alison asked.

"Catheter," Mewtwo said. Saying the word was only slightly less disturbing then knowing what it was for, and where it went.

"Right, a catheter. You don't have to go."

"Oh." Brenda tilted her head. "Okay." She grinned, and waggled her eyebrows. "Ali-Ali-Alison, could you do me a really big favor?"

"What?" Alison sat down in the other visitor's chair, across from Mewtwo. "Unless it involves breaking the law. Then hell no!"

Brenda shook her head. "No, not that. There's a pink tube on the IV stand. Could you pinch it off, pretty please with a cherry on top?"

Alison tapped one finger against her lips. "This IV line would be your pain killers?"

Brenda nodded, her hair flopping in her face. "I wanna be clear. Don' care much 'bout pain."

"I'll get you a paper clip," Alison said, sighing. She caught the look Mewtwo was giving her. "What? It's easier to just go along with her, and this way she doesn't try ripping needles out."

Alison left the room, muttering under her breath. Crazy step-sisters who would rather suffer agony then be even slightly out of control…

"I done that once," Brenda said. "Wa'n't fun."

Mewtwo shook his head and put aside his untouched salad. It looked only slightly better then the station eatery. "You- I don't believe you!"

"Can do it now," Brenda said. "If'n y' want."

Mewtwo lunged across the bed, grabbing her broken arm to stop her. "No!" It was only after that he realized that he could have stopped her with his telekinesis. If he had used telekinesis, he wouldn't be just about sprawled on top of her, which was probably very bad for her health. He weighed 270 lbs, and she had broken ribs. If not for the drugs, she would probably be screaming by now.

She would probably also have killed him, but that was besides the point.

"Hi!"

"Hi, Brenda," Mewtwo said, wondering just how he could apologize- and shouldn't he get up off the poor girl now?

Brenda giggled, and thrust her face towards him. Mewtwo flinched.

She kissed his ear.

"Gah!" Mewtwo threw himself backwards, falling on his tail and scrambling back into a corner. _(Detective!)_

"You're cute," Brenda said, leaning her head back with a blissful smile. "Good kitty."

_(…I think I'm traumatized for life.)_

**Sunday**

"The nurses say you continue to screw with your drip, Ms. Johnson. That's very foolish, until you are better. Do you enjoy being in pain?" The doctor glanced at the IV line- which was tied in a knot, after the last nurse had taken away the paper clip. "The dosage of painkillers can be reduced, but you need to relax in order to heal."

Brenda clenched her hand in the bed sheet. "You've already fucked with me enough," she growled. "I can relax just fine without some shit screwing with my brain."

The doctor glanced pointedly at her free arm, which was so tense it was trembling. "If necessary," he said, "we will restrain you."

"Come a little closer and say that, asshole."

"Name-calling will do nothing. You are in the hospital to recover, not to have your own way."

"If you morons had two brain cells to rub together, you'd let me leave." She hated hospitals, hated doctors, hated needles shoved beneath her skin and the memories of being small and helpless in a hospital bed- she wasn't thinking about it. "Either you let me sign out or I'll make you wish you were a taxidermist!"

"You will not sign out. You would ruin your health and likely lose your leg."

"I think I know myself better then you do, jackass."

He shook his head. He would untie her IV himself, since the nurses were unwilling. "You certainly will not. I didn't know you were a doctor."

"No, just a smart person who's in tune with her body." She waited, watching. Just a little closer… A little more…

"Not so much, if you think-"

She hit him with the cast.

"Ms. Johnson, best of luck to you," the doctor said. He turned on his heel and left the room.

Melanie stepped in a moment later. "I'm sorry about him, Officer Johnson. He's the best we have, when working in a lab. May I speak with you for a few minutes?"

"Come a little closer, bitch," Brenda growled. Hit a few more doctors, and she might get kicked out.

"No, thank you." Melanie sidled up to the IV stand, checking the dosages. She couldn't do anything about the knot from four feet away, but was keeping her distance. She hadn't seen a chart yet, so didn't know what the dosage for the detested painkillers was. "This IV is actually very important, and you managed to tie all the drips up. The pale green liquid is an antibiotic, to make sure nothing nasty starts growing up and getting nasty. You're in better shape than the wall, but not much. Without the antibiotics, you could get an infection that would kill your leg, if not you."

Brenda bared her teeth. "Do you expect me to believe you? All doctors are full of shit."

"Only the constipated doctors," Melanie corrected. "I get fiber in my diet, thank you. Now, moving onto this clear fluid. That's a saline solution to replace all the liquid you've lost. The blood transfusions were finished yesterday. The pink is the painkillers, the only thing you could take orally if desired."

Melanie read the fine print on the antibiotic. "You technically could take the antibiotic in pill form, but the doctors do not want any bacteria setting up shop."

Brenda snarled quietly. "How about no painkillers and letting me go home."

Melanie shook her head. "I'm sorry, but your leg isn't nearly healed enough. The rest of the injuries... you would still need a live-in nurse for a little, but they could be done. We also want to make sure you didn't bruise your brain. I'm pretty sure that's fine, though."

"_A live-in nurse?_ Fuck no!"

"That would only be the case _if _your leg wasn't mangled enough to need skin grafts," Melanie said firmly. "I've spoken to your partner, and agree with his description. Your leg looked as if it had melted. Skin grafts would be easiest, but we've taken a good look at your burns. Your skin can heal, given time and rest. Physical therapy should start in three days, if you can be a nice patient and stay put."

"And just what fucking reason did Vahan have for talking with you?" Brenda asked, glancing towards the corner. Bastard coward, he must have fled just before she clobbered the doctor. "And just why should I be a nice patient?"

"He's not part of this," Melanie said, focusing right on Brenda. "I know it sucks. There is nothing fun about being in the hospital. It smells weird, the decor is horrible, and people will keep coming in to check on it. However, if you want to ever kick a door in with that leg again, or give chase on a suspect, you need to cooperate. I'm not here to make you miserable, or to make you happy. I'm here to make sure that you get your life back."

Brenda let her head fall back into the pillows. "I _hate_ hospitals," she said. "And I hate that asshole. Should've punched him in the dick."

Melanie barely kept her smile from showing. "I owe you for that, by the way. Do you have any idea how much I've wanted to hit him? Look, can we make a deal?"

"What's the deal and will I have to arrest you for it?"

"Second question first- no. As for the first, you let me give you a checkup, I sneak you a cup of coffee and we work on lowering your painkiller dose. I won't take it off completely, because that would hurt like hell."

"I'm used to pain," Brenda said. "I doubt this is the worst I've been."

"Let's not find out, shall we? You have second-degree burns. If you promise to not scare my nurses, they can start trying less drastic options like ointments and looser bandaging. Second-degree means that your nerve layer is damaged, but you still have part of your skin there. My biggest concern as a doctor is the amount of area burned."

"So I'll have some lovely scars, so what?"

"You won't have skin growing, if you start moving that leg too early. You'll have your scars."

Brenda shifted in the bed as best as she could, and tried to fold her arms. "Hate you," she muttered. "Bringing logic into this."

"I know, I'm evil," Melanie said. "If you want your coffee, you'll not scare off the nurses. They'll all have heard about the thing with the cast, by now, and they'll all bring you food." She winked. "Be a little nice to them, you'll have even more coffee. If you're going to drink coffee, the saline solution definitely is a must."

"There's nothing wrong with coffee."

"It's probably bad for you, medically speaking, but withdrawal just might be worse." Melanie shrugged. "My second day on the job and I'm a maverick. Mind if I blame you as inspiration?"

Brenda lifted an eyebrow. "Sure?" It wouldn't have been the first time.

"Don't move your leg, please, but can you feel anything? Wiggle your toes?"

"How the fuck should I know, some asshole put me on pain killers."

Melanie was amused. "Your dosage is cut, officer. I'll check later, when I find the only nurse in this place who can make a decent cup. How do you drink your coffee?"

"Liquid, preferably without the ability to talk back." Brenda settled back in the pillows, relaxing now that the pounding in her legs was gone.

Melanie grinned. "You got it. Should I send your partner back now? He escaped when the fireworks were going off."

She'd guessed right. "Gotta kill him anyways," Brenda said. "Might as well be now."

"Aww, don't do that," Melanie said. "He's interesting, and there aren't enough guys out there with purple eyes."

"He's an idiot," Brenda said, keeping the thought of 'pretty purple eyes' to herself. She'd acted like a big enough idiot already, and her only defense was being high on drugs. Not a good situation.

"Smart, for an idiot. I'll warn him that death is imminent. Only fair."

"Okay, okay." Brenda waved one hand. "Hey, did you know your name tag's upside down?"

**Sunday**

Brenda looked over when Mewtwo entered the room. "Can you make sure that no one can overhear us?" She noticed the cup in his hands. "Did you bring me coffee?"

_(Tea, actually,)_ he said, eyes glowing blue for a brief instant. _(I don't think it will interfere with any of your medicines.)_

"I want coffee," Brenda groused, but she accepted the tea anyways. She took a sip and hid a shudder. People drank this stuff? It was boiled plants, for goodness sake! "I hope the coffee god doesn't smite me for this."

Mewtwo stared at her. He lost his illusion in his shock. _(Coffee god?)_

"It's a one-woman religion."

_(If you say so, Detective.)_

"Fill me in on what I've missed, would you? What's happened with the case?"

Mewtwo obviously hesitated. Brenda set the unwanted tea aside, and bit her lip. "Mewtwo?"

_(Giovanni Rocketto is dead.)_

"Did the ice dragon get him?" Brenda asked, confused. She would have thought that Mewtwo would celebrate, at least a little. Team Rocket would be broken by this- that was a thought. Maybe crime could actually be solved, now that Rocketto was out of the picture.

_(No.)_

It took Brenda a moment. No, the ice dragon hadn't killed Rocketto. "Then how did he die? Did a piece of that damn wall hit him on the head or something?"

_(No.)_ Mewtwo looked up at her, like a guilty child. Like he had over the seatbelt incident. _(I killed him.)_

"You _what_?" Brenda clenched her eyes shut and groaned. "You didn't just tell me that. You hear me? I didn't hear that, you didn't say that, understand?"

_(You're not upset?)_

Sometimes, Brenda thought, Mewtwo acted like such a child! "Of _course _I'm upset, idiot! You can't just say things like that! For all official records, the psychic-ice-dragon thing killed him. Understand?"

Mewtwo nodded, eyes very wide.

"As for what you did…" Brenda relaxed enough to smile. "Consider it community service, alright?"

Mewtwo finally relaxed, and attempted a smile. Brenda stared at him until his lips stopped trembling.

"I'm not upset," she said, using a tone she'd only heard Alison use before. "Honestly, the only reformed criminal is a dead criminal. However appealing the thought of Rocketto in a bright orange jumpsuit with a three-hundred-pound cellmate named Bubba might be, real life just doesn't work that way."

_(If you say so, Detective.)_

"I don't say so, I know so. You'd better know so too."

Mewtwo's eyes narrowed. _(You speak as if I'll be sticking around.)_

Brenda huffed in order to cover her sudden unease. Wouldn't he? "Well," she said, "you are the best damn partner I've had since Lt. Milton."

Mewtwo took a deep breath. Brenda could hear it from her bed. _(I suppose, Detective, I could stay. Just for a while.)_

**End Notes**

And that is a wrap, people! Yes, this story is complete. If you want more of Brenda and Mewtwo, just say so. Either way, another story will be going up as soon as it's written and edited. In the mean time, if you're a fan of Teen Titans- or just good writing- go check out CalliopeMused's story 'The Fifth'. I also ask, for Calliope, that if you have any artistic talent that you would please, please consider turning 'The Fifth' into a comic and put it up where people can see it. It's just that awsome.

Thank you for reading, leave a review on your way out. Remember, tip your authoress!


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